


Haunted

by KingKay



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: #Writober2019, Angst, Creepy, Dark Magic, Endgame Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Fluff, Ghosts, Halloween, Happy Ending, Harry is not okay, Haunting, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Humour, Lollipops, Luna Lovegood & Draco Malfoy Friendship, Memories, Nice Draco Malfoy, Non-Graphic Smut, Patronus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2020-11-09 00:07:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 31
Words: 72,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20844284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KingKay/pseuds/KingKay
Summary: Harry has returned to Hogwarts for his eighth year and Halloween is drawing near. However, while everyone is getting ready for a party, Harry's thoughts are occupied by the fact that he's being stalked...There is something lurking in the dark that sends shivers down his spine. Between cryptic ghosts and Malfoy being strangely friendly, this holiday is shaping up to be a frightful disaster.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, so this is the first chapter and I will (hopefully) be posting updates daily so long as I don't fall behind getting it written. Anyway, since Halloween is my favourite holiday I thought it fitting that I did a fic that's a bit spookier and scarier than I normally do. I hope you enjoy it.
> 
> The Prompt word for today is: Spice

Harry can tell Halloween is close, not by the decorations or the excited gossip of students planning tricks or craving sweets but the smell. The scent of pumpkin spice has invaded every corner of the castle, bringing to mind the arrival of autumn. One whiff and you begin to conjure up images of crisp fresh air that rustles through leaves of rich red and gold. To Harry, it meant quidditch season is nearly here, and sunsets that look like the sky is burning, warm scarves and gloves coming out of hibernation as the world prepares to sleep through winter.

Unfortunate, this year would be quidditch free for Harry since the teachers had decided that the Eighth Years won’t be allowed to play for the school teams. Harry can almost understand their reasons, they aren’t supposed to be here, but the war has disrupted lives and paths for everyone. As such they are here for an extra year trying to complete the educations denied them and also have a chance to return to the familiar before the newness of life outside.

He would be the first to admit that the call to come home to Hogwarts had been far stronger than his desire to study. Losing quidditch hasn’t changed that feeling, and he can always go for a fly or organise friendly games with friends whenever he wants. It’s just that the games lack the thrill they once had without any real competitiveness or challenge.

Harry smiles to himself at that thought, Ginny certainly challenges him and even beats him on occasion, but it just doesn’t feel the same which is a statement that can also be applied to Ginny and Harry’s relationship, that unlike the changing season will never return to what it had been.

_ It was for the best really_, Harry thinks as he looks further down the Gryffindor table until he spots her. She catches his gaze and sticks her tongue out at him, making Harry chuckle before focusing back on the food before him. His ears pick up on Ron and Hermione talking across the table, but he’s not paying enough attention to make out the words.

He’s about to take a bite when he freezes in place, fork before his mouth as a shiver travels down his spine. His hair stands on end as the sensation continues in a wave over the rest of his body and makes his hand tremble for a second. Just for a moment, Harry feels off centre, as his stomach flips and his heart skips. As soon as it arrived the feeling is gone leaving Harry confused as he glances around but doesn’t see anything unusual.

Ron and Hermione are still deep in their discussion, Ginny is laughing at the girl sat beside her and Seamus is pinching bacon off Dean’s plate when he thinks the other isn’t looking. Craning his neck, Harry peers pass the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws until he catches a glimpse of Malfoy. Even he isn’t doing anything, eyes down as he leans his cheek on a fist and eats his food.

Malfoy has been quiet since he came back, the only Slytherin to do so, and if you listened to the rumours only to avoid Azkaban. Harry knows its complete nonsense, he’s here for the same reason as everyone else, which is to try and pretend that everything is back to normal.

Harry isn’t sure why his eyes had sought out the Slytherin, in the past; Malfoy might have been a cause of trouble, but now, not so much. He really has been quiet Harry realises when it occurs to him that they share all the same classes, but he doesn’t remember seeing Malfoy in any of them or hearing him answer a single question.

With a frown, Harry studies Malfoy and wonders if he should be paying more attention, but it’s not really anything to do with him and since he wants a normal year Harry isn’t keen to look for problems that don’t exist. He returns his gaze to his food, fork lowered, so it rests back on his plate, but Harry isn’t feeling hungry anymore.

“Are you ok, Harry?”Hermione’s question makes Harry look up to meet her warm brown eyes, and he hums in reply. Seeing her brow crease in worry, he smiles at her in reassurance.

“Just got lost in thought,” he says finally taking a bite of food. The taste of the perfectly cooked sausage brings back his appetite, and he quickly chews and swallows before taking a second bite, this time of fluffy scrambled egg.

Hermione is still looking at him with concern but doesn’t press him for more of an answer. Something in her eyes makes it clear where she thinks his mind had drifted off to, and he wants to tell her he isn’t thinking about the war. The argument would, however, be counterproductive, even wanting to correct Hermione’s assumptions is leading Harry’s mind down a dark path.

Pushing them aside, Harry refuses to remember the bodies that had been laid out on the floor under his feet and the cries of mourning families that had echoed through the corridors.

It would be a lie if Harry said coming back to Hogwarts had been easy, for the first few weeks it had been hell. Too many painful memories still fresh in his head and even now he can’t walk by the forest without his heart racing or prevent his eyes from seeking out the spot where Voldemort finally fell in this very room. He doesn’t regret coming back, Hogwarts means so much to him, and he won’t be chased from it by a dead man. Here Harry is beginning to heal, slowly, and together with his friends, they will erase the damage of the war and build their futures. They will race down corridors to classes and make jokes at dinner until they choke on their food and be children for one more year, the way they should have been last year and all the others since Harry had first entered through the large oak doors of the castle.

Harry continues eating and firms his resolve to enjoy this year until the bell signals that class will start soon. He quickly washes down his mouthful of food and climbs to his feet, bag strap in hand as he heads out with his friends, a spring in his step.

As Harry heads down the corridor, he passes by alcoves and tapestries and a hundred other things that are familiar and that he knows so well he could describe them from memory alone. The sounds of footsteps on flagstones and excited chattering creates a din as it echoes up to the high ceilings, but even that is a comfort, a sign of things returning to normal.

Reaching Charms class, Harry scans the room and notices Malfoy sat at the back, their eyes meeting for a second before Harry turns away. Pulling out his books and a quill Harry forgets about Malfoy and focuses on Flitwick as he demonstrates the spell they will be learning and will be on the final exam.

It’s an Extension Charm, and Harry feels a tiny bit smug that he already knows the spell and the undetectable version thanks to Hermione. Confident Harry doesn’t bother writing more than the spells name in his notes for class and shakes his head at Hermione scribbling away as she takes down everything Flitwick says. Some things never change it seems, and how seriously Mione takes classes is one of them.

In all fairness, her dedication and expansive knowledge had saved Ron and him countless times and not just when it came to doing homework. He is sure that people would be fighting to hire her once Hogwarts ended and many would be disappointed. Hermione had planned out her life in fourth year and would be spending her energy updating and reinventing the wizarding world, particularly its laws and government.

Leaning forward Harry peers past her to look at Ron and smiles when he catches him balancing his quill on his nose. He clearly also doesn’t see any point in taking notes or even listening, he also knows what he wants to do after school. A place as an Auror is already waiting for him at the Ministry, there's one for Harry two, and he’ll likely take it.

It was his dream to join the Aurors, his whole education twisted to prepare him for defeating dark witches and wizards. He’s good at it, and everyone expects him to be an Auror, to carry on being their saviour but being back at Hogwarts Harry is having second thoughts.

He is sick of others controlling what he is, what he’ll become. He was just a kid, and the war left scars on more than just his body, the traces of everything he’d gone through visible in how often he reaches for his wand and the way his eyes check for threats no matter where he is. A soldier who is always on guard but that’s not the life Harry wants to have, not forever or he’ll end up as mad as Moody was, exploding bins thinking they are full of dark magic.

In truth, the more time he spends at Hogwarts, the greater the temptation to stay, outside he gets swamped with his fans and everyone stutters when they talk to him. Here the students have gotten over his status, and only a few eyes linger on him when he enters a room. The professors all still treat him as just another pupil, not allowing him to skip out on lectures or assignments.

Harry leans back in his chair and imagines what it would be like to be a Professor here, just another face in a sea of people. His mornings spent eating at the staff table and his nights marking essays and writing lesson plans. The joy of seeing someone achieve a goal and knowing he had helped make it possible and the pride he would feel watching his students grow and mature. It isn’t like he doesn’t have any experience teaching and leading Dumbledore’s Army had been one of the highlights of his life.

Harry pushes aside his daydreams for a moment and focuses back on Flitwick who is passing out small wooden boxes, one floating over to Harry before resting on the desk before him. Taking out his wand from his pocket, Harry taps it once on the lid as he mutters the spell and causes a tingle of magic to warm his hand as it flows into his wand and spreads over the box. Opening the lid Harry peers inside; it doesn’t look any different with the bottom clearly in view but when Harry drops his quill inside it floats down, the bottom moving lower and lower until the quill finally stops. He has to squint to make it out, the light not quite reaching it so that it is partly hidden in the shadows.

“Well-done, Mr Potter.”

Harry's head snaps back up, and his eyes meet Flitwick's who is smiling at him from his podium. Harry offers a shy smile back, a small part of him wishing that Flitwick hadn’t singled him out, but the rest pleased to be able to show skill at something that isn’t Defence Against the Dark Arts.

“Thanks, Sir,” Harry says before he Accios his quill back and closes the lid on the box. With a Finite Incantatem, the box is returned to normal but his mind continues to mull over his earlier daydream.

The longer the idea bounches around his head the more convinced Harry is that it's the future he wants. He has always wanted to protect people and he can still do that as a teacher, just in a different way. He can give them the knowledge they need to protect themselves so they won't be relying on a hero to save them. 

A board grin spreads over his face as Harry blurts out his sudden decision,“I want to be a Professor.”

Hermione reaches out and pulls him into a hug the moment the words are out. Harry wraps his arms around her and chuckles at the whispered words of encouragement that she spills into his ear. Moving slightly to see around her hair, Harry isn’t surprised to see Ron looking less than pleased, his mouth pressed into a line and eyes glaring at the table.

“Ron, mate,” Harry hesitantly says letting go of Hermione and waiting for a response from his other best friend. Ron glances at him, but his eyes return quickly to the table, expression unchanging as he keeps scowling. Hermione opens her mouth to speak, but Harry stops her with a hand on her arm and a shake of his head.

“I know you were looking forward to having me with you in the Auror program but,” Harry rakes his hand through his hair and tries to work out the best way to explain, “I feel like I belong here, that this is what will make me happy.”

The pinch to Ron's face lessens and when he looks at Harry this time their eyes remain locked. Gradually Harry sees the anger and disappointment fade, it isn’t completely gone, but Harry doesn’t expect it to be, not yet anyway.

“Really? Are you sure about this, Harry?”

Without a pause, Harry nods, “Yeah.”

“Alright, I guess. At least I won’t have to worry about keeping you out of trouble now.” Ron shrugs. Harry smiles a little sadly at Ron, his joke a blatant attempt to hide how he really feels. Harry knows that this news has hit him hard, and it’ll take more than a few minutes for him to really come to terms with the unexpected change of plans. Even if Ron had lost his temper and shouted at Harry he would have eventually come around, his need to support his friend more important than his own wants because that’s the type of person he is.

“Yep, I bet that’s a massive relief,” Harry jokes back and gets a small smile from Ron.

Thankful that Ron is already accepting this sudden change, Harry starts to collect up his things while Flitwick informs them that he wants a four-foot essay on Extension Charms, their uses and the restrictions for using them by wizard law. Most of the class is already halfway out the door, meaning that their group is the last to leave. Exiting the classroom, Harry stops in his tracks, a cold breeze trailing over the back of his neck, and it set his teeth on edge.

Reaching up Harry rubs at the spot, removing the prickles from his skin but not the unease from his stomach.

“Come on, mate. We have to get to Herbology next,” Ron calls, already a few feet away.

“Right, coming,” Harry replies as he glances behind him, finding nothing. He hikes his bag up higher and walks quickly to catch up with his friends as the feeling disappears. Harry blames it on a draft, something that isn’t unusual in an old castle and his own easily triggered nerves.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt word for today is: Dancing

Later that day, Harry is rushing to the Gryffindor dorms, planning to use the shortcut on the second floor behind the tapestry when he stops at the distant sound of whispers. He licks his lips as he slowly draws out his wand and holds it before him. Taking a single step forward, he rolls from his heel to toes to prevent even a scratch of sound while his ears strain to pinpoint the noise further down the corridor.

Even as he gets closer to the door, Harry can’t make out the muffled words as his blood pounds in his ears, and his hand grows clammy around his wand. Harry pauses for a second to swap his wand to the other hand and wipe it dry on his trouser leg, grip firm once more he trains his wand on the door.

Grabbing the handle, Harry pushes the door open and scans the room, realising quickly precisely where he is as Myrtle turns to look at him with her eyes wide.

“Oh, hello Harry,” she says, her high voice is overly sweet, and it grates on Harry’s ears. He forces a smile to cover his grimace and nods in greeting his eyes still looking around for anyone else because he is sure it hadn’t been Myrtle he heard.

“What trouble are you getting into now?”

“None,” Harry answers quickly as he pockets his wand and looks down at his scuffed trainers. He’s not sure why but he feels like he has been caught doing something wrong, though the fact he just walked into a girls bathroom might have something to do with it. He looks back up at Myrtle, her transparent form glowing with a whitish-blue light in the dim room.

“Who were you talking to?”

Myrtle giggles at his question and floats closer, a broad grin on her face like the type children use to appear charming. On Myrtle’s face, it just looks scary and Harry inches back a tiny bit.

“My special friend, no one else bothers to talk to me, but my friend does,” she tells him. The accusation in her tone fails to stir any guilt in Harry’s stomach, he has been busy sorting out his own stuff to give much thought to the ones of the Hogwarts ghost.

“Well everyone needs a friend,” Harry says making sure it’s a statement and swallowing down his questions. He doesn’t need to know who Myrtle’s friend is or if they are still here because those questions will only lead to more problems and probably a mystery. Harry is done with all that, a normal year, that’s all he wants, but Myrtle speaks again catching his attention.

“You can be my friend Harry and his, he would like that I’m sure.”

Harry’s mouth opens, and he has to fight it shut, biting his tongue. No, he isn’t going to ask. Everyone wants to be friends with ‘Harry Potter, the boy who lived’, and he already has plenty of good friends. Whoever Myrtle is talking about is likely crazy; anyone who willingly talks to the moody ghost is a few players short of a full quidditch team in Harry’s opinion.

“Actually, I need to get going.”

It isn’t a complete lie, Harry still needs to get to the Common room on the seventh floor and collect extra parchment before meeting Hermione and Ron in the library.

He expects Myrtle to get upset, but she just shrugs and lets out another childish giggle before floating around him in a spin that makes him dizzy as he tries to follow it. She comes to a stop before him again her body swaying so that she appears to be dancing on air and humming a tune quietly.

Harry recognises the song instantly; it’s one of Molly’s favourites. A cauldron full of hot, strong love by Celestina Warbeck, the lyrics of which are very suggestive and make him blush in embarrassment as some of them fill his head.

“I’m just gonna go,” he mutters as he turns and throws the door open again and races for the secret passage, jumping the trick step without really thinking about it. He uses muscle memory alone to get to the Common room only pausing to give the password before he crawls inside.

His conversation with Myrtle had been weird, well, weirder than usual and a tiny part of him is still curious who she was talking to. He shakes his head to clear it and reminds himself again that it isn’t important, hopefully, her new friend will keep her busy and out of Harry’s hair.

Running up to the dorm room, Harry heads straight for his school chest and collects the parchment as well as a bag of Bertie Botts beans to snack on and shoves them into his satchel. With a tug, he settles the bag higher on his shoulder and checks the room for anything else he might need.

The dorm is a new addition to the castle designed to house the returning students, but it doesn’t look it. The stonewalls no different to any of the others and the arched window has the same view as his old dorm which confirms that magic is responsible for its construction. An extension charm likely, the same as the one he has to write an essay about and Harry plans to use this room as an example of its usefulness.

With everything he came for collected Harry heads out, waving in greeting at the other Gryffindor’s relaxing in the Common room. A loud bang from one corner informs him that someone just lost at exploding snap and he wishes he could stay and join in. Hermione would have his head if he ditches his studies, Ron would too but only out of jealousy, or not. There is a chance that his friends would enjoy some time without him and is the reason he had offered to collect the parchment.

He doesn’t feel like a third wheel most of the time, it’s always been the three of them, so his friends’ relationship hasn’t made a massive impact on that. It’s only occasionally that he thinks his presence is a problem, and when that happens, he’ll find a way to disappear for a while.

Harry’s sure he’s been gone long enough now, so he ignores the temptation of the warm fireplace and calls to join in games and heads for the library. He’s glad that it is on the fourth floor, so he doesn’t have to try and avoid another chat with Myrtle or the possibility of being pulled into an adventure.

He’s been walking for about ten minutes when he notices the cold sensation that slides over his skin. Tugging his cloak closer Harry wonders if he should have grabbed his scarf as the hair on his neck rises and prompts him to lift a hand and rub it to remove the feeling. His footsteps grow slow as he peers around the corridor, but it’s empty save for himself, not even the patter of one of the castle cats breaks the silence.

Still, to Harry, something feels off, a tiny change but one that you can’t help but notice. He counts the suits of armour, glances at the alcoves and frowns at the portraits that line the wall, but everything is in place, Harry’s positive there isn’t even a crack he hasn’t seen a thousand times before to throw him off.

With a finger he pushes his glasses up and strides forward, he’s just acting stupid. All that time spent consumed with ‘constant vigilance’ has permanently damaged his brain, so that a drafty corridor can rattle him. _I need to sleep more_, Harry thinks, more than willing to blame tiredness for his sensitively today.

The feeling is already fading after a minute and proves that it was all in his head, and Harry rolls his eyes before glancing backwards. A draft, he tells himself again turning a blind eye to the steady torchlight that hasn’t flickered once.

Finally reaching the library, Harry enters and looks for Hermione and Ron, finding them tucked into a corner on the right. He grins at the redness of their cheeks and lips and raises his eyebrows as he gets closer. It isn’t easy for him to fight down a chuckle as both their faces flush more and they look away. He really shouldn’t tease, but they make it too easy by showing their obvious embarrassment.

With a shake of his head, he pulls out a chair and sits across from them, sure that the hands he can’t see are locked together under the table.

“Got the parchment,” he says as he pulls out the paper and passes some to Ron, Hermione of course already has hers and will likely use every bit of it regardless of how long the essay should be.

“Cheers mate took you long enough to get here.” Harry shrugs in reply; he doesn’t want to tell them about his run-in with Myrtle, more than happy to forget the whole thing.

“That eager to learn, are you? Mione must be so proud,” Harry teases, bringing his hands up to his chest.

“Piss off,” Ron says back without a trace of annoyance. The friendly banter just par course for them and Hermione doesn’t even roll her eyes at them anymore. Instead, she changes the subject and draws Harry’s attention back to his sudden career choice.

“Harry, I’ve been thinking about what you said earlier, and if you really want to become a Professor, then you’ll have to work exceptionally hard this year.”

“Yeah, I kinda figured that.” He raises a hand and scratches his head. “Does that mean it’ll never happen?”

“Oh no,” Hermione quickly reassures him, “Your grades are pretty good, especially for Defence Against the Dark Arts, which I assume is the class you want to teach?”

She made it into a question, and Harry couldn’t resist getting a little sassy with her.

“Nah, I thought Potions or maybe Divination. Check this out,” Harry says before slowing and drawing out his speech in a parody of Trelawney, “You’re going to die, you’re going to die, and you, you will find the perfect love, and then you’re going to die. Pretty good right?”

Ron lets out a snort of laughter while Hermione just cracks a smile and shakes her head.

“Very good, I’m sure the students will appreciate your humour, Professor Potter. Now, as I was saying, your grades are fine, and you do have experience teaching from running D.A in Fifth year. I’m sure if you spoke to Headmistress McGonagall, she would let you know what else you need to do.”

“She’ll probably just offer you a job on the spot,” Ron chimes in, while flipping through his Charms textbook.

“I doubt it, I’ve caused quite a bit of trouble, and my fame doesn’t matter to her, never has.” Something that Harry is grateful for, it would be freaky if she started fawning over him.

“Does this mean you’ve gotten over my decision not to be an Auror already?”

Ron gives him a look, his eyes flashing for a moment with disappointment even as his mouth curls up into a smile.

“I’m holding out hope that you’ll be bored stupid after a few weeks and beg to join me in training. Think about it, mate, the adventure and the action. Chasing down the bad guys and winning duels. Do you really want to give that up to spend your days with a bunch of kids?”

Harry lets out a sigh and leans back in his chair as he crosses his ankles, “Honestly, yeah. We’ve had so many adventures already, and most of them weren’t what I’d call fun. I guess I’m tired of it, you know? Sure the thought of running and fighting gets my heart racing, and it sounds exciting, but it doesn’t compare to how I remember feeling watching Neville master Expelliarmus or seeing the smile on Luna’s face when she conjured a Patronus. It’s a different kind of excitement, and the reward is a hundred times better. I don’t want fame or accolades; I want someone to tell me I really helped them.”

A silence settles over the three of them as Harry finishes speaking, Ron frowning slightly as he stares at him. Harry waits nervously licking his lips to see how his friends will react; he hadn’t meant to say all that, but every word is true.

“Well,” Ron starts as his brow smooths out, “I guess I can’t argue with that.”

“I think you’re making the right decision, Harry. You’ll be a great Professor,” Hermione joins in, her hand resting on Ron’s shoulder.

“Hopefully, first, though I need to finish my education and get this Charms essay done.”

Without another word, they all begin to organise books and open ink bottles, the sound of quills scratching filling the silence around them.

Harry is feeling more focused now than a few weeks ago as he fact checks his work in the textbook and a sense of calm has settled over him. Before he’d just been drifting through classes, but now he has a goal, something he wants with growing desperation. For the first time since the war, Harry feels hopeful for the future, can picture it clearly and some of the stress that has been sat on his shoulders lifts. He forgets everything else as he plans out his essay and consults with Hermione determined to get a high score on his homework.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The prompt word for today is: Laughter

Harry’s shoulders tense as a chill creeps down his spine and dread settles like a rock in his stomach. _Something is wrong,_ he thinks as he tugs his robes tighter around his body and glances around the entrance to the great hall.

The teasing scent of the food laid out for lunch fills his nose, while the chatter of a hundred voices bombards his ears, but nothing about that is strange. Regardless Harry can’t shake this feeling of something being off, and he instinctively takes a small step back before firming his stance. For the past few days, he’s suffered from these odd chills, they only last a minute, but for that moment, Harry swears that something is watching him from the shadows.

_ There’s nothing there_, he tells himself again, feeling silly for his paranoia but it doesn’t stop the hairs on his neck from standing up, the prickles that cover his skin that make him feel as if something is crawling under his clothing.

Harry closes his eyes for a moment, curling his fists and takes a deep breath as his heartbeat speeds up, pumping the blood faster through his veins. A well-developed fight or flight response is crucial for an Auror, but that isn’t what he is or wants to be.

Opening his eyes, he walks forward, joining his friends at the Gryffindor table and hoping that none of them noticed his brief hesitation.

“Harry, are you alright?”

Hermione’s question dashes that hope away, but he forces himself to smile at her even as his feet tap on the flagstones beneath him matching the tempo of his heartbeat.

“I’m fine, just remembered I still need to talk to McGonagall about becoming a teacher. I’ll try and talk to her after lunch.”

The look Hermione gives him made it more than clear that she doesn’t fully believe him and he looks away when she places her hand on his where it is curled on the table.

“Are you sure that’s what’s troubling you?”

“Of course.” Looking back at her, Harry tries to convince her that he’s fine, “I just felt kinda dumb about focusing so hard on my studies recently without bothering to find out what I should be studying. I could be wasting my time on a subject I don’t need or missing out on one I do.”

“I guess that’s true, but I could have sworn that you looked scared about coming in here.”

Harry feels his brow as it furrows into a frown somewhat irritated at both Hermione and himself. He’s been back at Hogwarts for over a month now, has walked into the hall countless times, each time easier than the last. After all the progress he’s made coming to terms with what happened and feeling better he doesn’t want to go back to being haunted by the past.

Whatever had frozen him earlier is gone now, disappearing the same way it always does and once more Hogwarts feels welcoming and familiar. Harry’s sure it’s nothing important and all he needs to do is keep focusing on his future rather than dwell on the strange sensation. It could even be that his worry is the cause, that he’s subconsciously triggering his own anxiety and blowing things out of proportion.

“Harry?”

Hermione’s gentle tone pulls Harry from his thoughts, and he relaxes the hand she is still holding, flipping it over to grasp her’s back.

“The stress might be getting to me a little, but I’m ok. I promise.”

“I’ve got the perfect cure for stress,” Ron says, joining in their conversation and barely sparing a glance at their linked hands. “How about having tonight off from studying and instead we’ll gather up everyone for a friendly game of Quidditch.”

“You do know that it’s raining right?”

All three of them glance up at the enchanted ceiling that’s filled with dark rolling clouds and silently falling rain.

“Fine, wizard chess then. Just anything that doesn’t involve a textbook.”

Harry smiles as he agrees and even Hermione admits that they can afford a break tonight. Gradually Harry begins to relax as the conversation turns to what they will do later and joking that if they skip double Divination, then they’ll have the rest of the day free.

As the bell rings, Harry lets out a sigh wondering once again why he had agreed to carry on with the classes he picked before the war. At the very least he should have dropped Divination and picked up something else, anything else that would prevent him from having to listen to Trelawney’s false predictions.

He shouldn’t really be that hard on her, he knows that she occasionally does have real visions and she’s stopped repeatedly telling him that he’s going to die during every class. Actually, she hasn’t predicted anyone’s death so far and sitting in the dim room hidden up in one of the towers reading tea leaves is pretty relaxing if he’s honest. He waves goodbye to Hermione as she heads off to her own class and he and Ron begin the long climb upwards.

“Let’s take the short cut,” Ron suggests and heads towards the second-floor corridor. Harry swallows down his panic but still reaches for Ron, grabbing him tightly and dragging him back.

“It’s not really much of a short cut, let’s just take the main staircase,” he offers. He really tries to keep the unease off his face and out of his tone, but Ron still gives him a strange look.

“It’ll save us a good five minutes, and we’ll be late otherwise,” Ron argues back as he tugs himself free and heads once more towards the tapestry and Myrtle’s bathroom. Harry bites back a curse and pushes Ron quicker down the corridor.

“Alright but we better hurry then.”

Ron once more stares at Harry for his odd behaviour, but he doesn’t ask about it, and Harry has no intention of explaining himself even if he did. As they pass the girl’s bathroom, Harry keeps his eyes firmly on it and strains his ears for the sound of talking or crying and lets out his breath when he hears neither. As they pull back the tapestry and ascend the stairs, Harry calms down and grins at Ron as they race each other to the top. Ron has an advantage being taller and having longer legs, but that doesn’t stop Harry from giving it all he’s got, and he only loses by a few steps as they come out of the top.

Already breathing heavily they slow down to climb the remaining floors and reach the trapdoor up to the Divination class just as the last person is climbing up the ladder. It isn’t until he’s climbed up that Harry realises that Malfoy had been the person ahead of him. For a second he watches Malfoy head to one of the beanbags at the back of the room before Ron is nudging him towards an empty table.

“Now class I think isn’t time we tried something a bit more advanced, a way to truly connect with your inner eyes and see things that are hidden from us. For centuries seers have employed various tricks to peer through the veil and discover the secrets of life and death, obtaining them directly from the source when necessary.”

Trelawney’s magnified eyes scan the room coming to settle on Harry who instantly stiffens, as a terrible premonition of his own forms in his mind as she smiles at him.

“Harry, you have crossed over once before so it should be easier for you to reach out into the afterlife again and make contact. However, dear children do not be disappointed if you struggle, there are things that we mortals should not know and the dead guard their secrets jealously.”

Harry doesn’t say anything, looking down at the low cloth draped table and refusing to meet anyone’s eyes as whispers break out around him. Everyone knows what had happened in the forest, the tale spread by word of mouth until something almost accurate had ended up in The Prophet for the world to see. Harry hadn’t minded at the time, anything was better than being hounded by people asking questions he didn’t want to answer or even think about. However, that doesn’t stop his annoyance at Trelawney for bringing it up, his mind drifting away to as he recalled the crunch of twigs under his feet and the faint presence of his lost family the only comfort he had as he walked towards death alone. He jumps slightly as Ron pats his back, and when he looks over, he can see Ron’s shared anger for Harry’s sake in his eyes. Harry smiles, the warm touch of someone that cares helps remind him that he’s still alive.

“Now class as I said there are many ways to bridge the gap to the afterlife, but we will be using an Ouija board as it has been proven to be the most effective with even muggles accidentally succeeding in attracting the attention of a restless sprite with knowledge to share,” Trelawney continues utterly unaware of the turmoil she just caused Harry. A glance around the room shows Harry that a few of the other Eighth years aren’t thrilled with today’s class either, Dean is scowling openly while Parvati leans closer to her sister, eyes shining with a sheen of tears.

“Professor?”

Harry turns quickly in his seat as does everyone else at the hesitant voice from behind them. Malfoy has a hand raised, but he lowers it as everyone’s eyes fixed on him, and he swallows, eyes darting from one face to another.

“Yes, Mr Malfoy.”

“I wondered if this is really an appropriate lesson considering _recent events_,” Malfoy says empathising some of his words which Harry notices, just like the way Malfoy’s eyes flicker to him as he speaks.

“I understand your concerns, but I must teach what needs to be taught so that those of you with the gift are trained in all aspects of Divination. As I already said, it is doubtful that anyone in this class will be successful, so I am confident that we will have no issues.”

Malfoy’s lips press into a thin line at Trelawney’s words, but he doesn’t say anything else, his face turning away as he looks off into the distance.

Harry turns back and raises his eyebrows at Ron, who shrugs, both surprised and confused by Malfoy’s display of empathy. Though, Harry can’t rule out that his question had been out of his own unease rather than for the sake of others. Harry’s is about to look back again when a board is placed before him, the letters are simple and drawn on in black ink, with the words yes and no written in the opposite top corners. He picks up the pointer, a triangle of some type of stone with a hole in the middle that feels cool in his hand.

Glancing back he sees a board being placed before Malfoy who crosses his arms and remains that way for the rest of class. Meanwhile, for the next hour and a half, Ron and Harry push the triangle around the board spelling out messages to each other while Trelawney reminds them to focus.

“Think about what you want to know, the question that resides at the front of your mind.”

“Only question I have is how much longer this lesson is going to last,” Harry mutters aloud deciding it’s too long to spell out to Ron on the board. As he had hoped Ron sniggers, covering his mouth to muffle the sound while his shoulders shake, but he isn’t the only one tickled by Harry’s sarcastic remark.

A snort of laughter rings out from behind Harry, and he whips his head around to see Malfoy who looks as surprised as Harry at his own amusement. Harry watches as slowly Malfoy smirks, the lift to one side of his mouth happening naturally.

“Very funny Potter,” Malfoy compliments, “Much better than my question anyway.”

This time Harry can’t stop the question as it slips from his lips, “What question did you have?”

“Whether I could knock myself out with this stupid stone and therefore spare myself from having to listen to this rubbish.”

A smile spread over Harry’s face, and a chuckle works its way up from his belly to escape, the serious tone of Malfoy’s words, somehow making his question funnier. At Harry’s laughter, the other side of Malfoy’s mouth lifts so that he’s now smiling at Harry even if it does look a little strained.

Harry’s about to reply when the chime of the bell rings out ending the lesson and Harry turns back to see Ron looking at him hard. Seeking a distraction and to avoid answering the questions, Ron will probably ask him soon, Harry reaches down and places a finger on the pointer. His mind is busy wondering about what had just happened with Malfoy, baffled that they had managed to have a civil conversation or that they spoke to each other in the first place. It’s not something he had thought of doing before; Malfoy hasn’t insulted him or his friends, so Harry has had no reason to say anything to the Slytherin boy.

He’s about to move his hand and face Ron, aware that he won’t be able to skip over what happened no matter how long he delays when the pointer shifts under his finger. With a jerk, Harry rips his hand away, and the pointer stops. The cold sensation is back, the sense of things being wrong and…dangerous, fear grips Harry and his heart stutters in his chest for a moment as it jumps from a steady thump to a quicker pace. The strange feeling has made him nervous and anxious before, but this time the only thing Harry feels is fear.

A second later the feeling is gone, and the dim light in the classroom no longer hides threats in its shadowy corners. The heavy scent of the incense is a pleasant fragrance on the air and removes the trace of decay that had slithered into Harry’s nose a moment ago.

“Let’s get out of here,” Harry says quietly, not wanting to raise his voice though unsure why he feels that way. He doesn’t bother to pull Ron along with him but heads to the ladder, the need to get out and escape driving his actions. Once his feet hit the floor of the seventh-floor corridor, Harry waits for only a second as Ron joins him before heading for the Gryffindor Common room and sanctuary.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The prompt word for today is: Boo

“What the bloody hell was that!”

“Nothing,” Harry says defensively as he flees into the Common room. His mind is spinning as he tries to come up with an explanation for the fear that lingers and leaves his mouth dry and his hands shaking.

“It wasn’t nothing, you were laughing with Malfoy,” Ron states as he moves to stand before Harry and stop him from reaching the dorms.

“Oh, you were talking about that.”

“What else would I be talking about?”

“Nothing,” Harry quickly says again actually pleased to talk about Malfoy rather than the strange feeling that keeps haunting him. “We were just talking.”

“Yeah, but with Malfoy,” Ron says, throwing his hands out and looking puzzled.

“I don’t know, he talked to me first, and his question was funny,” Harry mutters a tiny rumble of guilt in his stomach.

“So what, he’s a death eater.”

“Was,” Harry corrects without thinking and wonders why he’s defending Malfoy at all.

“Whatever he’s still an evil git.”

Harry pauses and runs a hand through his hair already losing interest in talking about Malfoy while he’s still on edge from earlier._ I probably moved the pointer without realising it and then freaked myself out,_ he argues with himself without conviction. He knows he didn’t push it, only the very tip of his finger had been on the stone and the feeling hit before it moved.

“What’s going on?”

Hermione’s appearance pulls Harry from his thoughts, and he huffs while Ron recounts what happened with Malfoy.

“For Merlin’s sake, I talked to him for a minute, complaining about Trelawney’s stupid lesson. What’s the big deal?”

“The deal is that it was Malfoy, why aren’t you more concerned?”

Harry rolls his eyes and pushes his glasses back up his nose, “Because it doesn’t matter. It’s not like I plan to make a habit of it. I guess it was just such a shock to hear him talk or laugh.”

“He has been quiet, but considering what side he was on during the war it makes sense for him to keep his head down,” Hermione mentions with a small frown.

“He shouldn’t have been allowed back at all if you ask me.”

“Can we just drop it and get dinner. Who cares what Malfoy does so long as he’s not causing any trouble,” Harry says and at the mention of food Ron’s sulky mood lessens, and his expression softens.

“Dinner does sound like a good idea.”

“Come on, let's ditch our bags upstairs before we go,” Harry suggests glad that the conversation is over and the strange feeling is fading to a vague memory. _Just stress_, Harry tells himself looking forward to an evening spent playing games and hanging out with his friends.

As they enter the hall, Harry’s eyes move to roam over the Slytherin table and locate Malfoy, once more sat eating quietly, with his eyes down and a blank expression. Harry doesn’t let his eyes linger, he had meant what he said to Ron. He doesn’t really care what Malfoy does and doesn’t do, except, Harry wouldn’t mind if Malfoy talked a bit more and looked less depressed.

Looking away, Harry once more pushes aside thoughts of Malfoy before his ingrained need to help drives him to get involved. He knows what comes of sticking his nose in where it doesn’t belong, and it’s never worth the trouble since it rarely ends with anything but him in the hospital wing. This year Harry hopes to avoid injury and Madam Pomfrey's stern bedside manners, in particular the horrible tasting potions she insists he takes.

Harry drops into a seat between Hermione and Neville and begins loading up his plate, suddenly famished as the smell hits him and makes his stomach growl. The smiling faces around him, lightening his mood until he has almost forgotten the strange incident earlier.

***********************************************************************************

With a large yawn, Harry rubs his eyes as he slowly makes his way out of transfiguration and remembers once again that he forgot to speak to McGonagall about becoming a Professor. _Tomorrow_, he promises himself, too tired right now to concentrate, and it’ll look bad if he’s half asleep while asking about getting a job at Hogwarts. Harry isn’t actually sure what time they had gone to bed last night, but from the way he is dragging his feet, it must have been late.

He doesn’t regret it, the easy comfort of being with others had fought off the strange feeling, and he laughed until he cried as Ginny paraded around the Common room in victory after winning a game of monopoly that Dean had brought from home. Ron had hated the game, and even Hermione soon got frustrated at the flexible rules being used because the instructions were missing. Harry had just liked being with everyone, doing something meaningless, but that offered plenty of entertainment.

Yawning again Harry stops dead in his tracks as the temperature around him drops. It almost feels like ice is spreading over his skin, sinking inside him until it hits the bones. His eyes dart from side to side, taking in his unconcerned classmates, but the familiarity of his surroundings fails to comfort him because something about it is wrong. It’s like that feeling when you go down the stairs in the dark and find the last step missing, so unexpected that it jolts your heart into your throat. That is how Harry feels right now as his pulse beats in his neck and his stomach rolls full of a deep sense of dread.

The torches seem dimmer so that more shadows lurk at the edges of the corridor and the sensation of being watched and stalked has Harry reaching for his wand. _Protect, attack, flee,_ his mind says offering him the available choices, but he’s too muddled to pick one as he remains still as a statue too scared to move.

“BOO!!”

One hand flew to his chest while the other went for the wand in his pocket as Harry spun to see Ron’s freckled face and the shit eater grin that stretched his mouth and left creases in his cheeks.

“Fucking git,” Harry swears his already frayed nerves shot by the unexpected surprise, and he glares at Ron as he considers hitting him with a stunner as payback. He sucks in a deep breath through his nose and pushes away the temptation while releasing his grip on his wand. Instead, Harry settles for punching Ron in the arm and smiles when he lets out a small cry of pain since it serves him right. Then with one last dark look at Ron, he strides away still a bit miffed.

“Oh, come on, it’s almost Halloween. Time for things to get scary,” Ron says as he throws an arm over Harry’s shoulder. For a second Harry considers pushing it away but that would be petty, so he just lets out a sigh and endures it.

“I know Halloween is soon, I don’t need a reminder.”

“Then why do you sound miserable?”

“I don’t know, I guess Halloween just doesn’t interest me this year,” Harry attempts to explain. The disturbing sensations that continue to plague him at random have dampened his usual excitement of the autumn festival and are providing all the frights he requires.

“But it’s Halloween! We’re planning a party in the room of requirement with costumes and fire whiskey, it’ll be a right laugh,” Ron argues, unaware of Harry’s dilemma. Harry thinks about mentioning it but doesn’t want to seem like a wimp or worse crazy. What exactly would he say, ‘oh, by the way, have you noticed the creepy feeling at Hogwarts recently or am I just losing my mind?’ Undoubtedly one of them would have mentioned it by now, and Harry would have noticed if they were acting strange the same way Hermione has picked up on his moods recently.

“A party sounds great, I’m just tired, and it’s making me grumpy, that’s all,” Harry says as he smiles at his friend and lies through his teeth.

He fakes excitement as Ron continues to talk about the party and what costumes they should wear. Eventually, Ron’s enthusiasm starts to rub off on Harry so that he begins to anticipate the party and wonders what costume he should wear. He really does like Halloween, the colours and the costumes and the silly scares that make people jump before dissolving into fits of laughter because it’s all a joke. There isn’t anything dangerous or threatening out there, and that’s just what Harry needs to remember.

All these creepy feelings aren’t real; there is nothing strange at Hogwarts except in his own head. A few odd occurrences at this time of year and he twists it into some terrible phantom haunting him in the hallways. He has let his imagination get away from him, not for the first time either.

His resolve falters for only a moment when he sees a shadow move out of the corner of his eye an hour later as he makes his way down the third corridor. He fights down the desire to check for it again and keeps facing forward while the air whispers of monsters in the darkness and goosebumps cover his skin. The atmosphere is rife with a wrongness that Harry can feel in his soul, but he walks on anyway as he grits his teeth. He refuses to let it get to him anymore, and as he keeps going and the mood shifts to one of welcome Harry is adamant that he has solved the problem once and for all.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The prompt word for today is: Time

It’s been four days, and Harry has to accept that the problem is not solved. In fact, the more time that passes, the more he suffers from the eerie feeling that stalks him down the corridors and sends cold shivers down his spine. It doesn’t matter how often Harry tells himself that it’s all in his head, the sensation returns proving him wrong. It makes his skin crawl and puts him on edge until it disappears, leaving him to wonder if he did imagine the whole thing.

To make it worse, even the shadows seem to be against him as they shift and wither in the corner of his eyes only to become still when he turns to look more closely. Then whenever Harry searches the darkness, he can’t find a single trace that anything is there or even a spark of magic.

Hogwarts itself has magic in its stones, its foundation, a gentle hum of power that always spoke of protection but now the air vibrates on a frequency Harry doesn’t know, doesn’t recognise. He can’t even find the words to describe what’s wrong except that it’s become sinister and whispers to him about the dangers that lurk in the darkness and traps him in a state of anxious expectation.

Harry spins and checks behind him again, the fifth time in as many minutes, but there is nothing there but shadows and the darkness that appears deeper than it should and could be hiding anything. He doesn’t know how he is supposed to protect himself from something he can’t see and can’t escape; a shapeless enemy that can slip passed any barrier.

Not even sleep offers Harry a break and a chance to rest as his nightmares are full of faceless monsters and the ghostly cold caress of whatever is hunting him.

“You look dead on your feet,” Ron points out as they leave their last class of the day. Harry hums in agreement but doesn’t say more as his eyes dart around in constant motion, scanning the alcoves and checking the portraits for anything strange. Nervously he pulls his scarf tighter only for it to fail to ward off the chill that trails over the back of his neck.

“Did you sleep last night?”

_ Not really_, Harry thinks as guilt bubbles in his stomach at Hermione’s worried tone momentarily replacing the unease that has settled there like a rock. It doesn’t stop him from lying to her as he struggles to appear fine and smile.

“I think I’m getting a cold.”

“You do look a bit feverish,” Hermione brings her hand up to his forehead, “Your skin is all clammy.”

“Why didn’t you mention you were sick?”

“No point causing a fuss over a cold. I’ll take a pepper-up potion and get to bed early, and I’ll be fine,” Harry promises his friends before he carries on down the corridor. Another shiver racks his body, making his shoulders tense and demands that he continues forward until the feeling finally fades for just a little while.

Reaching the great hall a wave of fear hits Harry and stops him in his tracks. His body breaks out in a cold sweat, and it’s difficult to breathe as each beat of his pounding heart is a painful stab in his chest.

“Harry.”

He jerks away as Hermione’s hand comes closer, stumbling a little in his haste, “The smell is making me feel sick, I’m going to lay down,” he rushes out on one breath before he flees.

He can hear Ron call his name, but he doesn’t look back as he runs from invisible demons that might only exist in his head.

Rounding the corner, Harry risks looking behind him, just in case this time he manages to spot something, and runs into a cloud of icy air. He screws his eyes shut and thrashes his arms in a desperate bid to escape and is surprised when he is successful.

He opens his eyes gingerly and finds Nearly-headless Nick looking at him with indignation, clearly offended by Harry’s behaviour.

“It is rude to run through people, and the screaming really wasn’t necessary,” Nick huffs as the edges of his spectral body reform from where Harry had dispersed it.

Harry doesn’t remember screaming, but the echoes of his cries are ringing in his ears as he rubs his hands over himself to warm his body back up. Gradually it works, and Harry finds that not even the strange chill remains and Hogwarts feels safe once again.

“Sorry,” Harry mutters, “I’ve not been feeling well recently.”

“Illness, one of the drawbacks to living,” Nick says with a resigned nod of his head that makes it wobble.

“Yeah.” Harry runs a hand through his hair and licks his lips before deciding to ask the question stuck in his head, “Um, have you noticed anything odd at Hogwarts?”

Nick frowns, a hand coming up to twirl his moustache as he considers Harry’s question, “Odd? Hmm, Peeves has been a bit less bothersome than usual, and Myrtle hasn’t flooded the bathroom yet.”

“No, I mean,” Harry interrupts before falling silent as he tries to find the right words to use. “An odd sensation here at Hogwarts, like a bad feeling.”

“Not that I’ve noticed, but I can’t feel much anymore. I expect some places are still recovering. Dark magic leaves a trace wherever it goes, and there are always impressions left behind after a traumatic event takes place.”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh you know, when people pass it leaves an impression that fades slowly over time, the more people that pass, the bigger the impression. On occasion, the living notices it, and then they blame a ghost or sprite when there isn’t one at all.”

“Can these impressions move, can they follow a person,” Harry asks excitedly. Perhaps this is the answer to his problem, and he isn’t going crazy.

“I’ve never heard of one that moved, but I’m no expert on the subject. I don’t think anyone really understands it, they just know it happens.”

“Oh.” Harry’s mood plummets at Nick’s words, his relief too short-lived and now he’s left despondent and as clueless as before.

“Thanks anyway Nicolas,” Harry says with a brief smile and a listless wave goodbye.

“Anytime, always happy to help,” Nick calls to his retreating back as Harry walks to the Gryffindor Common room.

The room is empty when he arrives with everyone else still at dinner, and the silence is suffocating as it weighs down the air around him. With a groan, Harry goes straight to his dorm and closes the door behind him, his mind spinning as he drops down on his bed.

For a second he had thought that he had an answer, a reason for what is going on but now he’s not so sure. He’s never heard of impressions before and wonders briefly if it might be the cause of muggles claiming somewhere is haunted just because it feels creepy. He probably should have considered that something ghostly might be responsible, the shivers and coldness being a big hint but his only experience with ghost were the ones here who don’t live up to their frightful image.

Slowly his mind begins to make connections, and the more he thinks about it, the more likely it seems that he is being haunted by some form of ghostly entity. The coldness is similar to what he felt passing through Nick, and it would explain how the ‘thing’ following him can vanish so quickly and not leave behind a trace.

However, that doesn’t solve the problem or the questions fill his head. If it’s an impression, then why is it moving and latching on to him when there are hundreds of students and teachers walking around? If it’s a ghost, then whose is it?

All this thinking is giving Harry a headache, and he closes his eyes to block out the torchlight. He allows his thoughts to run in circles for while before they slow and eventually stop when Harry drifts off to sleep.

_ Someone is crying, the noise piercing Harry's head and filled with the type of pain that only a few have ever experienced. He keeps running as his feet slip on the loose rubble under him and ducks the flash of light that sails over his head._

_ Keep going, his mind screams and pulls his body into action, ignoring the ache in his muscles as he pushes them harder._

_ A hiss from his left and fangs flying towards his face causes him to spin and race the way he just came to instead stand before a pair of red eyes that look out at him from a skull-like face. Harry raises his wand and fires off a spell, a stunner that hits the figure and passes through it as the dream changes and shifts to hold nothing more than a shadow._

_ Slinking along the ground, its tendrils coil around Harry’s ankles, its icy touch increasing Harry's fear. He kicks out and steps backwards but the shadow follows growing larger until filled with panic Harry flees._

_ The beat of his feet on stones is slower than the beat of his heart as his breaths fall from his lips in inconsistent pants and his lungs burn. Harry sucks in another breath flooding his body with oxygen to fuel his waning body, soon he will have to stop, and when that happens, the shadow will have him._

_ Already he can see the way his gasps are misting in the air while the coldness around him creeps into his bones and freezes them so that they seem to creak when Harry forces them to move._

_ He needs to…._

_ Needs to keep…_

_ He can’t remember what he has to do, something about it not being real but his body burns and shivers, the extreme sharpness of ice cuts into his skin and a trickle of sweat rolls down his face._

_ The shadow is getting closer as his vision fills with darkness, blind and scared, he stumbles onto his knees. A scream erupts from his throat in a last desperate plea._

Harry is still screaming when he sits up in his bed, to find the room empty and lit by the torches that continue to burn in their brackets. He swallows down his panic while trying to regulate his breathing which is again coming in rapid shallow inhalations.

Nightmares are nothing new for Harry, having suffered with them for years even before the trauma caused by the war. They have become an expected if unpleasant fact of his life and rarely cause him a large amount of distress anymore unless particularly graphic, so why does the shadow scare him the way it does. It is nothing but a shapeless patch of darkness, a sensation of cold but it’s unable to truly touch him.

However, it’s for that exact reason that it scares Harry, he doesn’t know what to expect or what will happen next, the fear of the unknown. At least now he might have found a starting point of what it could be, and that offers some comfort. A ghost or impression is much less of a threat than an unseen monster because he knows they can’t hurt him, or he doesn’t think they can.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The prompt word for today is: Lollypop

Harry is leaving the boys bathroom a few days later when he catches sight of something to his left and prickles dance over his skin as his hairs rise. Remembering what Nick told him about impressions Harry heads towards the movement feeling a surge of irritation that blocks out the fear. The shadows seem to be flowing from around the next corner, darker than they should be in the lit hallway and radiating a wrongness that Harry finds personally offensive in his home because that’s what Hogwarts is and will always be. As he nears the corner, he presses his back to the wall before taking a breath and drawing his wand. With his eyes on the shifting shadows, Harry licks his dry lips and lunges out with his wand raised and ready.

“Shit!”

Harry jumps, partly at the noise and partly from the shock of finding Malfoy before him. He watches as the wide grey eyes narrow with annoyance and Malfoy lowers the hand he had pressed to his chest, his voice still sounding slightly breathless when he speaks.

“If you were trying to scare me to death then well done, you just got bloody close.”

“Says the person hanging around in an empty corridor, were you the one making that shadow just to scare me by playing a trick,” Harry asks even as he notices Malfoy’s eyes are still locked onto his drawn wand warily.

“I know it’s almost Halloween, but I’m not really in the mood to play tricks. As for why I’m here, I was heading to the Great Hall, you know, the place where lunch is currently being served.”

Malfoy’s tone drips with sarcasm but lacks any bite as if he’s worried about causing offence. As Harry continues to stare at him slightly confused, Malfoy swallows and reaches into his pocket. Out of habit Harry tightens the hand on his wand, but Malfoy just pulls out a lollypop. The clear wrapper decorated with pictures of black bats while the sweet itself is a swirl of black and orange sugar.

“I’ve always preferred the treats,” Malfoy says opening the sweet and sticking it in his mouth as if explaining himself, though Harry hasn’t said anything. He’s completely lost about what is happening and the fact that Malfoy seems a bit scared of him.

Taking the lolly from his mouth, Draco points it past Harry, “Can I go to lunch now, or are you going to hex me?”

“What, oh no,” Harry stutters thrown by Malfoy asking his permission until he realises he’s stood in the way still holding his wand. With a quick step sideways, he waves his free hand signalling Malfoy past and pockets his wand. He drops his eyes down and checks the ground but finds no sign of any strange shadows and the creepy feeling has vanished, so he is left feeling like a bit of a tit for jumping out at Malfoy.

As Malfoy passes Harry, he reaches into his pocket again and tosses something towards Harry who instantly snatches it from the air. Opening his hand, he finds another lollypop, this one decorated with orange pumpkins but made of the same spiral of colours.

“Happy Halloween, Potter.” Malfoy glances over and gives Harry a nod before continuing to disappear around the corner his last words echoing back to reach Harry. “Watch out for shadows.”

Harry's mouth opens as he prepares to ask Malfoy what he meant by that, but the words never come out. Malfoy is already gone anyway which leaves Harry to try and work out for himself if it had been a threat, a warning or both. The tone didn’t give anything away; the soft drawl could easily be interpreted to mean all of them. Regardless Harry doesn’t have the time to figure it out now as his stomach rumbles and reminds him that he hadn’t eaten much for breakfast thanks to the nightmares he’s been having.

Harry shakes his head as he looks down at the sweet still in his hand, bemused that Malfoy of all people has just given him candy. Not only is Malfoy quieter but also friendlier than before, it’s weird but a good weird. Everyone came out of the war a little different, and if Malfoy came out of it a slightly nicer person then who is Harry to have a problem with it. That doesn’t mean he understands this new Malfoy or what made him give Harry the sweet treat after aiming his wand at him and accusing him of playing tricks.

_Who walks around with a pocket full of sweets handing them out to their old enemies_, Harry thinks before he notices what he’s doing. He’s getting involved in something that is none of his business, another mystery and he already has one of those that he doesn’t want.

With a sigh, Harry shoves the lolly in his pocket, not wanting to throw it away but unable to continue thinking about it as his stomach complains once more driving him to head to the Great Hall. He also decides not to mention anything to Ron after his reaction the last time Harry had spoken to Malfoy. Harry really isn’t interested in fighting with him or anyone else, he just wants a school year that allows him to get his grades and have fun.

Reaching the hall he waves at his friends as his eyes dart to the side and land on Malfoy, the lolly has been replaced by a sandwich, and he doesn’t look up as Harry enters. Not wanting anyone to notice he’s staring at Malfoy, Harry focuses on his friends. Their discussion only pauses for a second at his arrival before it continues with Ginny and Ron arguing about going to the pitch during their free break after lunch.

“It’s not fair, I still have potions. Can’t we play after dinner?”

“We’ve got to study after dinner,” Ron argues back at his sister, which makes Ginny huff out a breath and cross her arms.

“You can study after lunch and play later when classes are over for everyone.”

Her eyes seek out Harry’s, the way they widen hinting that she is expecting him to agree with her, which he does, but knows better than to say anything. He gives her a sheepish smile as he reaches out and quickly grabs a sandwich, taking a big bite and uses it as an excuse not to talk. She glares at him before returning to her argument with Ron which lets Harry’s mind turn over the problem in peace.

The weather has been surprisingly lovely today, but the sun won’t last for long, so going out earlier makes sense, but he would rather have everyone there to make the game better. However, the only thing he really cares about is having a chance to get back on his broom, it seems like ages since he has flown and the call to feel the wind whipping across his face and the pull in his stomach as he goes into a dive is strong. Flying has always helped settle his mind, and he really wants that right now.

He chews slowly and watches as Ginny wins by wearing her brother down until he agrees. Ron claims it’s only because they’ll have more time to play, but Harry isn’t convinced. Ginny when she wants something is a force of nature, and you either move out of the way or agree with her. With the quidditch issue taken care of talk turns to other topics, in particular, the Halloween party.

“I’ve got twister for us to play,” Dean announces making Ron and Ginny frown in confusion.

“Sounds painful, what kind of game is that?” Ron asks under his breath.

Unable to resist teasing Ron for his lack of knowledge Harry quickly answers, “It’s not too bad and being wizards, we all know the spell to fix any bones we break. Just be sure not to fall down, or you’ll lose the game.”

“Broken bones! What the bloody hell!” Ron shouts, face pale as he shifts closer to Hermione, “I’m not playing, and I’m not letting any of you either. Muggles are mental.”

Hermione scowls at Harry who has given up holding in his amusement and is chuckling openly while she gently rubs Ron’s back to calm him down.

“He was joking; no one will break anything unless they are really unlucky.”

“So just Harry then,” Ginny says with a wink in his direction which causes everyone to snigger at his expense.

“Haha very funny,” Harry deadpans before sticking his tongue out at Seamus when he reaches across the table to give Ginny a high five.

“Games aside, I’m actually looking forward to seeing everyone’s costumes.”

“I’m with Hermione. Having magic means the costumes must be loads better than muggle ones,” says Dean sharing a look with Seamus that is filled with mischief.

“Why don’t we all go to Hogsmead together to get our costumes,” Ginny suggests as she peels an orange, “The next school trip is on the 25th unless you guys want to get yours earlier.”

Harry shares a look with everyone at the table aware that since all of them except Ginny are Eighth years, they can go to Hogsmead whenever they want outside of lesson times. However, it would be more fun with everyone there, and they could even pop into the three broomsticks for lunch and butterbeer. A trip out of the castle might also do him more good than a game of quidditch and get him further away from the ‘ghost’ as he has decided to call it rather than ‘creepy feeling’.

“I don’t mind waiting and going as a group,” Harry says and finds everyone else is quick to agree. It means that he doesn’t have to think about it for a while and can ask for advice when it does come to picking a costume.

*************************************************************

“Nice try,” Ron shouts as he blocks the quaffle as it flies towards the left goal and throws it back to Dean, who loses it a second later to Terry Boot.

Harry turns away from the match going on below him and circles the pitch once more. His eyes are narrowed as he hunts for a glint of gold while always being aware of Ginny as she hovers in the centre of the pitch. Currently, his team is in the lead with twenty points thanks to Ron’s brilliant keeper skills, but Harry knows it can all change very quickly if he fails to catch the snitch. All in all the teams are pretty evenly matched with Ron, Dean, Ernie, Hannah and Harry against Anthony, Terry, Parvati, Seamus and Ginny.

He hears a yell of victory and knows the score is now tied with twenty points each and glances over to Ginny. She smiles at him and calls out over the wind, “You’re going down, Potter.”

He chuckles in response and wonders if she deliberately chose to sound like Malfoy or would be offended if he pointed it out. He’s about to risk asking when a speck of light reflecting in the weak sunlight catches his eye. He doesn’t waste a second before he dives downwards, the wind whipping past his ears so he can’t hear anything over the roar. Still, he’s sure than Ginny isn’t far behind and will be gaining ground fast as he dips and swerves following after the snitch.

He twists around a goal post as the tiny winged ball attempts to lose him, jerking erratically but Harry has it in sight now and doesn’t dare blink as he edges closer. A brush against his leg tells him Ginny has caught up and that only spurs him to lean forward and grip the broom tighter with his tights, cutting down the drag and allowing him to speed up a fraction. A smile curls onto his face as the snitch darts upwards, and he pulls back hard on the handle of his broom to change direction. The snitch still just out of reach then tries to go over Harry's head; he lets it.

Throwing his weight back to fly upside down, he stretches out a hand to catch it, his hand closing around the winged ball even as it tries once more to escape. Righting himself Harry holds up the ball in his fist and cheers out in triumph, letting everyone know that the game is over. Ginny flies up beside him, a smile on her face that seems a little too happy after her loss. Harry tucks the now inactive ball into his pocket and raises his eyebrows at her.

“What are you grinning about?”

“Well, you may have got the snitch, but I got a good consolation prize.” She lifts her hand and shows him the lollypop sat in her palm. Harry recognises it instantly and quickly realises it must have fallen from his pocket during his last move.

“Hey, that’s mine,” Harry states automatically trying to snatch it back, but Ginny closes her hand and flies away.

“Then come and get it.”

Part of Harry considers just letting her have the sweet but his competitive nature bristles at her challenge, pushing him to dive after her. A few loops and quick turns and Harry is soon on her tail, and he surges forward, forcing her to drop her broom lower so that they are skimming over the damp grass. Determined not to let her get away again Harry drops next to her and let’s go of his broom to wrap his arms around her.

“Got you,” he whispers as their brooms slow down and eventually come to a stop.

“Fine.” With a huff, Ginny hands him back the lolly, and not even her pout can make Harry consider giving it back.

He returns the sweet to his pocket, as he pulls out the snitch, the one that once held the resurrection stone and rubs a thumb over the smooth surface. Harry can’t help feeling a little smug after winning not once but twice, as the others gather closer.

“What was that about?”

“Harry apparently won’t share his Halloween candy,” says Ginny answering Dean’s question.

“What candy?”

“Just a lolly someone gave me,” Harry said realising too late that he should have kept his mouth shut as Ron’s eyes widen and everyone else smiles at him.

“Who?" Ginny asks, but Harry refuses to answer, shrugging it off as not relevant.

“I bet it’s from a girl that’s sweet on our Harry,” Seamus teases.

"Or a boy," Dean adds which makes Harry snort. All his friends are aware he likes both and while they occasional like to poke fun at him for it he knows they support him completely.

With a smile at them Harry shakes his head before he walks away, tickled by his friends guess because there is no chance that Malfoy is sweet on him, it just so happens that he does carry sweets on him, that’s all.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The prompt word for today is: Dust

“Headmistress,” Harry says as he approaches McGonagall at the staff table after dinner the next day.

“Yes, Mr Potter?”

“Um, I wanted to talk to you about something. It’s kind of private,” Harry says as he puts his hands into his pockets to stop him fidgeting. No matter how old he gets, McGonagall still has the power to make him feel like he’s eleven years old under her firm gaze.

“Very well, please accompany me to my office.”

In silence, they leave the Great Hall and walk to the gargoyle that guards the moving stone staircase. A wave of sadness covers Harry as he remembers the last time he had come here to view Snape's memories in the pensive.

“Pumpkin pasties,” says McGonagall which prompts the gargoyle to move aside. Harry’s head whips to look at her, and he sees the soft smile on her lips. She doesn’t speak as she gestures to him to go first, but Harry is sure that the password is in memory of Dumbledore, a small way of honouring him. The room hasn’t changed much, Fawkes perch is gone, and a few other things have been moved around or replaced, but to Harry, it is still Dumbledore’s room. As he takes his seat, he grins at the bowl of sherbet lemons on the desk, and when McGonagall offers them to him, he takes one.

“Take two, I honestly can’t stand them and neither can anyone else who comes in here. Now, what is it you wanted to discuss Mr Potter?”

“Oh, well I wanted to talk about my career choices,” Harry admits, as he places the sweets into his pocket planning to put them with the lolly in his school trunk.

“I thought you had already decided to join the Aurors.”

“I did but…I’m not sure if it’s what I really want anymore. It’s always been expected that I would, considering everything, and I know there’s a place ready for me there.”

Hesitating for a moment, Harry picks at his nails, “I just don’t think it’s where I should be or where I will be happy.”

McGonagall listens to him as she peers over her rectangle glasses, wearing a frown that creates a few rows of lines on her forehead.

“Then where do you want to be Harry.”

Hearing her address him by his first name and her gentle tone of voice relaxes Harry enough to be completely honest.

“Here, I want to be here. I know I’m young, but maybe I could work as an apprentice for a few years before being given a position on the staff. I promise I’ll work hard, and I can pick up things pretty quickly and-.” McGonagall lifts her hand, silencing his ramble; Harry swallows nervously as he waits to see what she’ll say.

“Am I to understand that you wish to become a Professor?”

Harry nods his throat too dry for him to speak as he digs his fingers into his knees.

“I see,” McGonagall comments before falling silent, her lip pressing together as she studies Harry. A minute goes by, and Harry is struggling not to be sick as his stomach churns with apprehension. “I will admit that I did not expect this, not from you, at least. That being said, if you truly wish to teach here, then I could arrange for an apprenticeship similar to the one Mr Longbottom has with Professor Sprout where you can acquire the skills needed. Do I need to ask which subject you wish to teach or am I right to assume that your interest lies in the Defence Against the Dark Arts position?”

“Uh, yeah. I mean yes, I want to teach Defence. I think it’s what I’m best at, and I’ve had some practice teaching it before.”

McGonagall nods as she reaches for a quill and parchment, “Indeed, Dumbledore’s Army. An impressive group and well trained but very different from following lesson plans and working with hundreds of students a day.”

Harry sits up straighter and leans forward in his chair, “I know, but I can do it, Headmistress.”

McGonagall looks up from what she’s writing to give him a warm smile, “I am sure you can, Harry. I believe you may be right that Hogwarts is the place for you, but you will need to pass all of your standard classes with an acceptable at the very least and an outstanding in Defence. You took Care of Magical Creatures as one of your electives, and it would be beneficial to have an outstanding in that class also since it often overlaps with Defence. Not an impossible feat to achieve so long as you put the work in and study. If you can complete this year with the required qualifications, then I will approve your apprenticeship. The position of Professor we will discuss later when I believe you are really to step into that role.”

Harry isn’t sure what to say, he had hoped that she would agree but to hear her say the words is overwhelming. With a broad grin, he reaches across the table and takes McGonagall’s hand in his, only aware of what he’s doing when she startles at the contact.

“Thank you, thank you. I’ll pass all the N.E.W.Ts I need, I promise,” Harry vows as his head grows giddy with joy. McGonagall actually lets out a quiet laugh at his claim and gives his hand a squeeze.

"I will hold you to that. Now, I’m sure you have some studying to do so along with you, Mr Potter,” she tells him with a tilt of her head towards the door.

“Right, yes. Thank you again.”

He releases her hand and rushes for the door, eager to tell both Ron and Hermione the news when a shiver races down his spine.

Freezing in place, Harry stops with his hand still on the door handle, while the air around him grows colder. The sensation only lasts for a few seconds before disappearing, but it reminds Harry that he still has other things to worry about.

“Mr Potter?”

Harry cranes his neck to glance over at McGonagall, who has risen from her chair and is staring at him with concern. Just for a second, he thinks of asking her about the ghostly presence but then pushes the temptation away. He just told her that he wants to stay at Hogwarts so if he then turns around a minute later and complains of a sinister feeling roaming the halls that haunts him day and night she’ll probably cart him off to St Mungo's.

“Sorry, Headmistress. I just remembered I need to get a book from the library. Thanks for talking with me and have a good evening.”

Opening the door, Harry hurries back to the Gryffindor Common room, the cold nipping at his heels and a sense of dread in his stomach. It chases him until he reaches the portrait of the fat lady so that when he arrives, he’s out of breath and trembling from head to toe. Fear racks his body, and it takes him a few minutes to clear his head enough to remember the password and get inside. Heading straight for the fireplace, he kneels by the flames and holds out his hands, basking in the warmth that covers his fingers, removing the stiffness from the joints.

“So how did it go?” Hermione asks as she kneels beside him and tries to read his expression for a clue.

“Fine, I just need to keep my grades up and pass my classes, and she’ll let me be an apprentice here,” Harry tells her managing to draw his lips up into a smile.

“That’s excellent, I thought the worst when you walked in. Why do you look so upset?”

“I guess it’s just the realisation of how much work it’ll be to pass all my classes, well except Divination,” Harry tells her. The lie tastes foul in his mouth, but he doesn’t want to draw her into another one of his problems. Both Ron and she deserve a break from the drama of his life, and they have been so happy recently, it would be cruel to take that from them now.

“I’ll help you, Harry; all you need is a study plan and a bit of motivation.”

“Right, thanks. Where’s Ron?”

“Finishing his Herbology essay in the dorm, Neville’s helping him, less of a distraction than when I try,” Hermione jokes nudging his side and pulling a chuckle out of Harry.

“You never know, he might try and kiss Neville. I would,” Harry says back, wiggling his eyebrow which earns him a slap on the arm from Hermione.

“Knock it off. Ron’s straight and so is Neville, so I guess you’re the one who’s out of luck.”

“I’ve never had any luck so not sure how I’ve run out of it,” Harry mutters pretending to sulk as he leans against Hermione who ruffles his hair and makes cooing noises at him in mock sympathy. The feeling is forgotten as Harry sits before the fire with one of his best friends and begins to make plans for his future.

********************************************************

Harry walks further down the aisle at the back of the library, his eyes scanning the books as he passes until he finds what he has been looking for and reaches out. The book is covered in dust, and even after Harry has blown it clean, the specks continue to drift in a shaft of sunlight. His prize in hand Harry moves closer to the window and sits on the wide ledge, flipping open the cover. His finger moves down the listed index until it comes to a stop on two words, Ghostly Impressions pg347. Harry finds the right page and pushes his glasses up before he begins to read, his lips moving along even as he doesn’t say a word.

_ Impressions are an imprint on a place where something tragic and terrible has occurred…. _

_…In most cases they are caused by the death of a person or people, especially if exceptionally painful, emotional or numerous…._

_ …Deaths as a result of torture or dark magic are more likely to result in an impression being left… _

_…The only exception to this is when magic is used that has some form of draining component; this type of magic will guarantee that no impression will remain… _

_…Sometimes referred to as cold spots, these impressions stay in the exact place where the tragedy happened…_

Harry frowns as he rereads the last line, biting his lip as he continues to the end of the chapter.

_The effects of ghostly impressions range from a drop in temperature to an unpleasant sensation over the body and can cause physical reactions such as shivers. However, it is easy to simply avoid these areas as they tend to be very localised and most will fade entirely after a few weeks. In the most extreme of cases and in regions of low magic, they can last for up to a year, while in the presence of high background magic, the impression will often be absorbed quickly._

With a groan, Harry drops his head back, resting it on the cold glass behind him and closes his eyes in frustration. _Guess I can rule that out as the cause,_ Harry thinks disappointedly. He really had hoped that an impression was to blame, something without conscious thought that he’s just been unlucky enough to stumble upon. He’d half convinced himself that his near brush with death had resulted in him being more sensitive to the lingering energy, a simple explanation that would resolve itself if he left it alone. Now however he has to consider the alternative, which will not be easily fixed and that he’s not sure he can deal with by himself.

Returning back to the index of the book, Harry looks over it again, wanting to know more about ghosts in general, but another word catches his attention…Haunting pg 329. Heart beating a little fast Harry turns to the correct page, and shifts into a more comfortable position.

_ Haunting is a common pastime of ghosts, usually concentrated on a specific place such as where they crossed into unlife..._

Harry skims over the rest of the page until his eyes find what he’s interested in and he brings the book closer to his face as his attention peaks.

_ Some ghosts rather than select a place chose a person to haunt, someone they either loved or loathed in life. In these cases..._

Harry lowers the book and holds his breath, the tap of footsteps registering in his brain and pulling him from his reading.

Closing the book, Harry tucks it away in his bag as he climbs to his feet and listens carefully trying to pinpoint where they are coming from. _The right_, Harry decides as he turns that way, someone returning from even deeper in the rows of shelves and he creeps closer as a chill seeps into his body. The teasing cold makes him uneasy but doesn’t deter Harry, fear has never stopped him before and it won’t now.

Just as he reaches the end of the aisle, the footsteps stop as does Harry's heart for a second as he feels a breath ghost on the back of his neck, far colder than anything living can produce. He spins on his heels, and a whiff of death fills his nose, turning his gasp of shock into a cough of disgust. Already scared Harry watches in terror as the sunlight disappears behind a cloud and the shadows grow darker around him.

As Harry steps back, he tries to draw his wand, but it catches in his pocket, fumbling from his hand to clatter on the floor. In slow motion, it rolls into the pool of shadows and Harry can’t bring himself to reach for it or even move as his body is locked in place by the barely audible sound of something whispering from the darkness. Softer than a snakes hiss, the voice talks too low for Harry to hear the words, but he doesn’t have to, he can feel them. Fear they say as they draw on a primal form of terror, the childish fear of boogeymen under the bed, of spiders skittering over skin, of a figure half-seen in an alleyway that is gone when you look again and Harry feels all those fears and more as his blood runs cold.

Every part of him is as cold as ice, inside and out in a way that is almost painful and forces his whole body to shake. His lips part and a whimper brakes free but the shadow seems to feed on it and grows denser. Harry is struggling to take a breath as his chest tightens and limits the space for his pounding heart so that each beat rattles his ribs when a light appears blinding him with its unexpected brightness.

As Harry blinks to remove the spots from his eyes, the feeling lessens, driven back by the small blue orb of light that hovers just before Harry. It’s almost like a shield as it pushes back the shadows and Harry takes advantage of that to snatch his wand from the floor. His arm shakes as he holds it out towards where the shadows were, but already he knows that whatever it was is gone. The cold is draining away even as the sweat that runs into his collar, cools his heating skin, and he takes a few deep breaths of the dusty air to calm his heart rate. He has just about managed to stop the tremors when he hears his name being called.

The light disappears as Harry turns his wand raised and pointing at Hermione’s face, her eyes growing wide as they take him in.

“Mione,” Harry says in relief as he lowers his wand and reaches out for her. She wraps her arms around him instantly as he clings to her, overwhelmed by the reassurance of her presence.

“What on earth is going on? Harry, you’re as white as a ghost,” she says as she presses on his shoulders to move him away to take in his expression. Any other time Harry might have laughed at her choice of word, but he can barely muster up a smile in his current state.

“I’ll tell you all about it but not here,” Harry whispers as she keeps an arm around his waist and guides him back to the front of the library.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second times a charm, hopefully my computer will let me post this without crashing again.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The prompt word for today is: Control

“Thanks for casting that light spell, but how did you know where I was?” Harry asks as they draw close to the Gryffindor Common room where they expect to find Ron.

“I thought you cast the light spell, I was just going to return a book when I saw it and went to check who was there. I expected to find a lost first year,” Hermione admits, her frown matching Harry’s and he’s sure that she is also wondering who cast the spell. Rather than ask Harry shelves the question for later and concentrates on getting into the Common room, his eyes locking with Ron’s the moment he enters.

Without a word, Ron rises from the sofa and hurries over to them, his eyes checking over Harry in worry and blocking him from everyone else’s view.

“Dorm?”

“Yes.”

“Right,” Ron says, ending his brief conversation with Hermione and keeping Harry hidden from any curious stares herds him upstairs. Harry gives him a small smile of thanks as they climb the stairs, he would rather not have everyone asking him what’s wrong.

When they finally reach the room only Neville is there, his nose buried in a book on rare magical plants and he looks up quickly when they enter.

“You alright Harry, you look sick,” he says, putting the book down as he begins to get up from his bed.

“Just a cold,” Harry mutters as he shrugs.

“That’s right, and if he doesn’t feel better tomorrow I’m dragging him to the hospital wing myself,” Ron threatens as he pushes Harry towards his bed, “Do you mind taking your book downstairs so Harry can get some rest up here?”

“Oh sure, no problem.” Neville picks his book back up and nods at them before heading to the door, “Hope you feel better soon, Harry,” he says as he closes the door on the three of them.

“Alright, now tell me what’s going on because I know it’s not a bloody cold,” Ron demands as he crosses his arms and glares down at Harry.

“Take a seat this could take a while, and I’m not even sure what it is,” Harry relents waving a hand to motion them to sit on Ron’s bed before he starts explaining.

Harry takes off his glasses and rubs a hand over his face before letting out a long sigh, “Since this month started I’ve been having these weird feelings, shivers down my spine and just a sense of wrongness here at Hogwarts. I thought it was just me, what with being back here after the war and the feelings only lasted a few seconds at first.”

“At first?”

“Yeah.” Harry nods at Hermione. “Then they started lasting longer and happening more often. I tried to ignore it, thinking I was making it worse by becoming anxious, but that only made them worse. I started seeing shadows, not normal shadows but ones that seemed to move and were too dark to be natural. They’ve even started appearing in my nightmares. A horrifying darkness that freezes and terrifies me because I don’t know what it is or what it will do.”

“Why didn’t you tell us this, I thought we were friends!” Ron snaps out, his sharp tone causes Harry to flinch as he looks away and his stomach churns with guilt. He should have said something sooner, but he thought he could control it, and he didn’t want to be a bother dragging them into something else where they could get hurt.

“It’s my problem, not yours. You both have done so much for me, and you’ve been really happy recently, and you’ve just started dating, and I didn’t want to ruin it all with something that I thought was all in my head.”

He risks looking up and finds Ron still glaring at him, “So bloody what! Even if it was all in your head you should have told us anyway, it’s not like we wouldn’t want to help. How can we be happy when we know you’re miserable?”

“Did you think we didn’t notice how you’ve been acting recently?”

Harry turns his head to Hermione, her voice soft in contrast to Ron's harshness, and her eyes are shiny with the tears forming in them.

“I...I didn’t want you to worry.”

“Well, we did.”

“We didn’t want to push you into talking before you were ready, but it hurt that you were hiding things from us again, Harry. I thought you knew you can always rely on us.”

The guilt increases at her words and Harry can’t stand to hear them. Quickly he gets to his feet and moves closer, dropping to his knees before them as he reaches out a hand, so it settles on Hermione's slumped shoulder.

“I’m sorry I should have told you sooner. I didn’t realise I was upsetting you so much, both of you, by trying to deal with this on my own,” Harry adds as he faces Ron and reaches out for him so that they end up in an awkward hug. His knees hurt being pressed on the cold floorboards, but the comfort of his friends' arms around him feels too good to pull away just yet.

The three of them stay in that position until Harry is ready to talk about everything, and he settles back on his haunches prepared to be completely honest with them both.

“I’m scared,” he whispers as his voice starts to shake, “I went to the library to see if I could find out what’s happening, but the coldness came, worse than ever, and the shadows whispered, and I couldn’t hear the words, but it felt dangerous. I couldn’t move. I was frozen in terror until Hermione found me.” Harry climbs to his feet and grabs his bag that he had dropped onto the bed and pulls out the book he had been reading.

“I think I’m being haunted,” he says and hands the book to Hermione who takes it from him, eyes flying to him after she reads the title.

“The Encyclopaedia of Ghosts and Sprites, by R. E. Guiley.”

“I ran into Nearly Headless Nick a few days ago, literally ran into him. The coldness was similar, how it passed through my skin to freeze my insides, and it would explain why this thing can appear and disappear without anyone seeing it. I haven’t seen it, just shadows that creep on the floor getting closer.”

“So you were in the library looking for a book on ghosts, doing research, but what happened next? I can’t even begin to describe what you looked like when I found you, Harry, I thought you were going to pass out with how pale your face was.”

“I was reading about impressions, it’s something Nick mentioned, but he didn’t know much about them. It didn’t take long for me to rule them out as the cause since they’re just cold spots, stuck in one place. Then I noticed the chapter on haunting. I started to read it but then,” Harry pauses as he tries to remember what had stopped him reading.

“I heard footsteps coming from further inside the library, so I put the book away, but then the footsteps stopped, and the coldness came. There was something there that smelled of death, and I turned around, but there was nothing but a shadow. It was darker than it should have been, and it just felt wrong and evil. I went for my wand but ended up dropped it in my panic. I didn’t know what to do, and I was too scared to move when the light appeared and chased the shadow away.”

“A light, what light?”

Harry frowns as he looks at Ron, “I don’t know. Hermione says she didn’t cast it, but a ball of blue light appeared, and drove the bad feeling away.”

“You mentioned hearing footsteps, so there must have been someone else there,” Hermione states not looking up from the book she has open on her lap and is already reading.

“I guess, unless they were your footsteps?”

Hermione shakes her head, “I was heading to the stacks at the back when I found you. If you had mentioned earlier the light wasn’t yours we could have looked around to see who cast it.”

“I wish I had thought of that, but I just wanted to run away. Why would someone help me but not show themselves?”

“Maybe it’s another ghost, one that wanted to help but didn’t want to scare you,” Ron suggests his eyebrows drawing together in thought.

“Unlikely since Harry heard footsteps.” Flipping a page, Hermione glances up at Harry. “Are you sure it’s a ghost? Hogwarts does have a few of them, but I can’t imagine any of them being responsible, and there are other possibilities.”

“That’s true. We have a whole bunch of other creepy things besides ghosts, stuff that’s much scarier.”

“As I’ve said I don’t know what this thing is but ‘ghost’ fits for now and is better than me constantly calling it the cold, creepy feeling,” Harry argues before standing back up only to drop back onto his bed. He has a headache and trying to work out this newest mystery is only making it worse. The softness of the mattress under him is tempting him to lie down, and he wishes he could sleep, but knows he’ll probably just end up having another nightmare.

“I feel drained, but that might just be lack of sleep rather than an effect of the ghost,” Harry mutters.

“If it’s really affecting you this badly maybe you should talk to the Headmistress. I’m sure she will be able to help.”

“And what if she can’t, what if she thinks I’ve lost my mind and jumping at shadows. I want to work here after I graduate, and it’ll look pretty bad if after talking to her about it I say that Hogwarts is giving me the creeps and the shadows are stalking me.” Harry shakes his head as he gazes over at his friends and fixes his expression into a stubborn pout.

“Harry, it makes sense to talk to the teachers about this. I know in the past we’ve always figured things out by ourselves, but we need to trust them and that they will know how to stop it.”

With a groan, Ron agrees with Hermione, “I mean I don’t mind a bit of excitement but not if there's a risk you’ll get hurt mate.”

“I haven’t been hurt, I don’t even think this ghost can touch me, and I don’t want more whispers going around the school about me. Someone will probably suggest I'm cursed considering all the trouble and shit that follows me around,” Harry huffs, kicking at the floor with his foot.

“Can it at least wait until we know what it is? Maybe there's a straightforward solution,” Harry pleads. Ron and Hermione share a look, neither of them looking very happy with Harry’s request, but with a shrug of defeat, Hermione accepts his decision.

“Very well, however, I want your word that you’ll tell us whenever this ghost shows up and if I say it’s becoming too much, then you’ll go to the teachers.”

Harry considers Hermione's words as he bites on his lip but accepts her conditions. He knows that if she wanted to, she could go to them right now and is only willing to wait because he’s asked her to.

“Right I’ll start doing research on ghosts as well as any other possible causes. I’m sure I’ve read something somewhere about Shadow people so that might be an idea to consider.”

“What are shadow people?”

“A concept in muggle folklore. However no one really knows for sure what they are, some say they are a trick of the brain, others say they are people or creatures that live in a dimension that is close to our own. I’ve never really believed in that sort of thing, but I never believed in ghosts either. I remember Shadow people don’t do much, often seen near those close to death and can cause paralysation in those who see them, with what you described it could be worth considering them as a possible cause.”

“All this stuff about weird feelings and shadow people is creeping me out,” Ron says as he shudders.

“Welcome to my life,” Harry mutters sarcastically. “At least the ghost isn’t here now, and it tends not to linger when I’m around other people. I also know that it doesn’t like light so until we know for sure what it is I’ll be ready with a Lumos spell.”

“I would really rather go to the teachers for assistance but knowing you have some methods to protect yourself is comforting,” Hermione says as she stands up and tucks the book under her arm.

“You should get some rest Harry, and in the meantime, I’ll read this and maybe check out a few more books on the subject.”

“I’m not sure I’ll be able to sleep, my nerves are still shot.”

“She just said to rest, so if you want I’ll hang out here with you, and we can play a game of cards,” Ron offers.

Harry gives his friend a small smile, aware that he could probably sense Harry’s desire not be left alone right now, “That sounds good actually.”

As Hermione prepares to leave, she nods at Harry and presses a kiss to Ron's cheek, bidding them both a good night.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The prompt word for today is: Best

Despite Harry’s best efforts to stay close to his friends, they couldn’t spend all their time joined at the hip so when Hermione vanishes to the library before lunch and Ron says he needs to run back to the dorm Harry tells him that he would be fine and will meet them in the Great hall. Everyone else will be heading that way, and he is sure to run into their other friends at some point.

He did, in fact, find a gaggle of first years that stared open-mouthed at him in awe until Harry loses his patience and slips away to use another route. He regrets that decision now as a chill spreads over his skin and the sensation of something crawls over the back of his neck.

With a shiver running down his spine and his heart thumping in his chest, Harry draws out his wand and cast Lumos. The shadows instantly moves back, but the fear remains, the soft glow at the tip of his wand doesn’t offer him the comfort that the blue light did. He firms his grip and forces more magic into the spell so that the light flares brighter and lights up the area around him completely.

It doesn’t help; he can still feel the ghost's presence nearby, as his muscles tense and ache from the coldness that he can’t banish. Each breath of air causes an icy burn to travel down his throat, settling in his lungs so that his head grows dizzy.

As his breathing turns to quick, shallow pants that fail to provide enough oxygen, Harry reacts the only way he can. He flees, racing down the hallway with the light of his wand still spilling out before him to keep the shadows away.

He skids around corners not daring to look back and jumps up the stairs two at a time, all the while only thinking of reaching his friends. _I’ll be safe with them_, he tells himself, more out of hope than certainly but that doesn’t matter as much as not being alone.

The hallway to the library is empty when Harry reaches it, and the sound of his feet on the flagstones is muffled by the blood filling his ears with a roar like ocean waves.

His light spell fails as he desperately struggles to open the door, his sweaty hand unable to get a firm grip for seconds that drag out into minutes to Harry. Eventually, he manages to get the door open, and he races inside, slamming the door shut for what little good it will do. He ignores Madam Pince’s hiss to be quiet as his eyes dart around looking for a familiar face.

In a second he has spotted Hermione's brushy mane and also Ron's flaming red hair, and he staggers towards them. Their hands reaching out for him as he gets close and Harry feels warm again, as he lets out a breath of relief and smiles at their concerned expressions. Ron tilts his head to the side, and Harry finds himself being lowered into a chair and his legs are grateful as his muscles complain from his mad dash. Leaning forward Harry rests his arms on his knees and breaths, in and out until the rhythm returns to something almost normal.

Once he can breathe, he can talk, and he looks up at his friends with a shaky grin, “Lumos doesn’t help much.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean it doesn’t work like that ball of light did, it lit up the area around me, but it didn’t stop the ghost making it cold or prevent me from panicking,” Harry whispers as his face heats up in shame of his behaviour and warms him up a little more.

“Then it can’t have been a regular light spell, I wonder,” Hermione says before her eyes drift to the stack of books she was carrying when Harry arrived. “I’ve read something about orbs; it’s another type of ghosts. They are pretty common, and it’s believed that they are ghosts too weak to manifest fully. They just float around without direction or true purpose. Completely harmless but quick, and they don’t affect the temperature like other ghosts do.”

“That’s great but unless it’s going to show up again then what spell can I cast to protect myself from a bad feeling?” Harry asks loudly, frustrated that things are just getting more confusing and that he is helpless.

“A Patronus charm.”

Harry’s head whips to the side where Malfoy is sat at the next table, an open textbook before him and a quill in his hand as he writes another sentence. Slowly as if realising he’s being stared at Malfoy lifts his head and shrinks back from the eyes fixed on him.

“What?” Harry asks in shock.

“A Patronus charm,” Malfoy repeats before he swallows and looks away.

“Were you eavesdropping on our conversation Malfoy,” Ron growls, and Malfoy looks back up at him with a sneer.

“I was here first, and if you’re going to be so loud, I can’t avoid hearing you. Potter asked a question, and I regrettably answered, my apologies if it was meant to be rhetorical,” Malfoy snaps as he turns away and begins collecting up his things.

“Wait, don’t listen to Ron. What do you mean a Patronus charm?” Malfoy glances over at Harry, their eyes locking for a moment before Malfoy lets out a huff of air. Leaving his things on the table, he slumps back in his chair and gazes forward rather than at Harry or his friends.

“You asked what spell can protect you from a bad feeling, and the answer is a Patronus charm.”

“How? It only works against dementors.”

Malfoy rolls his eyes as he finally looks at Harry, “The spell was designed to ward off dementors, but that doesn’t mean that there are no other uses for it. The Patronus is created using a happy memory, or more accurately, the feeling of happiness the memory creates in the caster. Logically the best thing to stop a bad feeling is a good feeling, and a Patronus is that given form.”

Malfoy looks away again his expression softening and his tone almost wistful as he continues to speak, “The books say a Patronus radiates a sense of safety to anyone that’s near it and that they can be used to soothe depression and anxiety.”

“I didn’t know that,” Harry mutters as he tries to recall how it felt when he cast a Patronus. He hasn’t done it for a while, and the times he had were often when facing a dementor leaving Harry little time to examine how it felt to be around one.

“How could you not know that? I swear if stupidly were contagious, I’d fear for us all,” Malfoy mutters as he shakes his head.

“Watch your mouth.”

At Ron's words, Malfoy closes his mouth and finishes packing up his things, his eyes staying firmly in front of him as he stands and goes to leave.

“Wait,” Harry calls, but this time Malfoy doesn’t stop or even slow his pace.

Harry jumps up from his seat and manages to get in front of Malfoy before he reaches the exit. Malfoy’s lips press into a thin line as his narrowed eyes glare at the floor and the knuckles on his hand turn white as they grip his bag strap.

“Um, I just wanted to say thank you,” Harry mumbles, feeling ashamed of Ron’s attitude and his own stupidity.

Malfoy relaxes at his words and his eyes lift along with a single eyebrow, “Whatever,” he replies before stepping around Harry and out of the door.

As Harry makes his way back to his friends, the first thing he notices is Ron’s scowl and Hermione’s crossed arms as she scolds Ron.

“There was no call for that Ron.”

“He called Harry stupid.”

“Indirectly and also complimented us in the process,” Hermione says back, hissing the words quietly so that Madam Pince doesn’t kick them out.

“How?”

“He could have said he fears for himself, but he said us all, therefore including both of us. In a roundabout way, he said that we’re intelligent.”

“Huh, I missed that,” Harry says as he glances back to the door Malfoy had disappeared out of.

“I bet that’s not what he meant and it doesn’t change the fact he was sticking his pointy nose where it doesn’t belong before acting smug about it.”

“He did and helped us by doing so. It would have taken me a while to consider a Patronus charm since I’m busy researching ghost stories. Now Harry has a way to protect himself, and you are annoyed just because it came from Malfoy.”

Ron’s mouth opens, but he soon shuts it and glares down at the ground with his hands curled into fists by his sides.

“What’s your problem with Malfoy?” Harry asks. He had been a little thrown by Ron’s reaction after Divination class, but his actions a minute ago had been a new level of aggression he hadn’t expected from his usually cheerful friend.

“You really have to ask that?” Ron says his voice raising and earning them a warning from Madam Pince to keep the noise down or they will be sent out of the library.

Harry returns to his seat and tugs Hermione and Ron down into the ones next to him. Leaning forward so they can whisper and still hear each other, Harry locks his eyes on Ron and keeps his expression sober.

“Have you forgotten about the war, what he did?”

“No,” Harry replies softly. He remembers the fighting and the fear and not knowing if he’d live to see another morning. He remembers the blood on white tiles and lies being murmured in a voice that shook with terror. He remembers the fire, so hot that it had felt like flying through hell. He also remembers who is to blame for all of it and it isn’t Malfoy or even his family. The fault rests solely on the shoulders of Voldemort, but he’s no longer alive to bear the weight of his sins.

“Then how can you talk to Malfoy as if you have?”

“Because I wish I could forget,” Harry states as he blinks away tears and wishes that he could so easily remove his own dark thoughts. “I don’t want to dwell on the past if I do that I’ll go insane. I don’t want to think about the war, and I don’t care about some stupid childish rivalry, and it seems that I’m not the only one judging by Malfoy's recent actions.”

“Harry,” Ron begins, but Harry cuts him off.

“I’m tired, and I’m terrified. Malfoy might have just handed me a way to lessen that without asking for anything in return and wasn’t even much of a prat about it. He could have ignored us, he could have walked away or spat out a bunch of insults, but he didn’t. I’m not telling you to forgive or forget, but I’m not interested in pointing fingers or starting fights. I have more important things to deal with right now.”

Ron rubs a hand over his hair and lets out a deep sigh, “I guess you’re right, but I can’t help thinking he’s up to something. I don’t care how quiet he’s been or that he seems to have helped. I don’t trust him.”

“You don’t have to, and I don’t either, not completely, but the Patronus charm is a good idea, and if it helps Harry then I don’t care whose idea it was,” Hermione says as she takes Ron’s hand and gives him a small smile which he returns.

“For Harry, I hope the ferret is right.” Ron lets out a groan as the tension leaves his body, shoulder lowering so that they are no longer bunched up by his ears. “I’ll try not to start a fight with Malfoy, but I make no promises if he begins to act like a git again.”

“If that happens, then I won’t stop you, but I don’t think he will.” Harry isn’t sure why he believes that but he does, it’s not a hope but a certainty that he can’t explain.

“Care of magical creatures will be starting soon, but if we hurry then we should be able to grab something to eat from the great hall before lunch finishes,” Harry points out as he stands and stretches the kink out of his back.

“Damn it, I’m blaming Malfoy for us missing lunch. Come on then, or there won’t be anything left.”

Using there still linked hands, Ron pulls up Hermione as he stands, and together they all make their way out of the library.

******************************************

As the class finishes, Harry heads over to Hagrid, he really should visit more often, but he always makes sure to stop for a chat when he has time after their lesson.

“Hey, Hagrid how are you doing?”

“Not bad at all, what abou’ yeh an’ yer friends,” Hagrid says as he looks fondly over the three of them.

“We’re fine, just busy with studying,” Harry lies after sharing a brief look with Hermione, who frowns for a second at him.

“I can imagine yeh are. Still, I bet yer enjoyin' being back at Hogwarts, it was a good idea of the Headmistress to offer yeh all another year.”

“It is good to be back, this way we can get our N.E.W.Ts and be completely prepared for our future careers.”

“We’ve all got jobs lined up for us already, they didn’t care that we don’t have N.E.W.Ts,” Ron points out before adding quickly, “but I guess another year here isn’t too bad. A chance to relax before going into training with the Aurors.”

“I ‘member you mentionin' it last time yeh stopped for a chat. A fine job for both of yeh an’ I know yer parents would agree with me there,” Hagrid states as his large hand comes down gently on Harry’s shoulder. It still surprises Harry how careful Hagrid can be with his actions but not with his words as a wave of worry washes through him. He has never doubted that his parents would be proud of him for becoming an Auror, but what would their reaction have been to him wanting to be a teacher.

“Actually Hagrid, Harry has decided not to go into the Auror program,” Hermione explains as she offers him an encouraging smile.

“Really? Then wha’ are you goin' to do Harry?”

“I actually want to become a Professor here. I’ve spoken to Headmistress McGonagall, and she’s agreed to let me have an apprenticeship as long as I pass my N.E.W.Ts.”

“Well tha’s wonderful Harry,” Hagrid booms, the small patch of his cheeks visible above his beard is rosy and rounded by the smile that splits his face. “I reckon that you’ll be a great Professor, one of the best Hogwarts has ever seen.”

“I’m not sure about the best, but I hope I can make a difference to some of the kids that pass through here in the years to come.” Nervously rubbing the back of his neck Harry asks a question that he’s already sure he knows the answer to but wants reassurance about.

“What do you think they would have thought of me being a teacher instead of an Auror?”

Hagrid’s eyes get a little misty as he leans down and peers at Harry, “They would be happy no matter what yeh did so long as it made yeh happy. I’m sure yer dad might have given you a bit o’ stick abou’ it but he would have still bin the first to tell everyone how proud he is o’ his son an’ as fer yer mum. She was a smart one with a heart o’ gold an’ was always ready to help those that were struggling, yeh take after her.”

Harry sniffs and ducks his head as he wipes away a tear, talking about his parents is always bittersweet because he can never know for sure what they would have thought of him. However, he trusts Hagrid’s words and thinks that he is right that his parents would have cared more about his happiness than his Job.

“Thanks, Hagrid.”

“Anytime an’ don’ yeh worry abou’ passing yer classes. I reckon you’ll pass this one an’ all the others too so long as yeh keep paying attention an’ do yer work.”

“I will,” Harry declares, feeling optimistic. He’s not sure if it’s because of Hagrid’s firm belief in him or that he now had a way to fight back the ghost, but things are finally looking up.

After a little bit more talking they all walk up to the castle for dinner where Hagrid offers some of his smaller pumpkins to use as decorations for their Halloween party. With another thank you and a wave Harry watches him take his place at the staff table and imagines a time when he will be able to join him up there.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The prompt word for today is: Guests

With a gasp, Harry sits up in bed, his t-shirt clinging to his sweat-soaked skin, quickly chilling him as he wraps his arms around himself and tries to keep quiet. His half sobbed breaths rack his body, and he buries his face into his blanket to muffle them, he doesn’t want to wake up the others, but the fear is still slithering around him, taunting him with its closeness in the darkened room. It takes a moment before his mind remembers what Malfoy said and a second later he is scrambling to get his wand off the nightstand.

Squeezing his eyes tightly shut Harry tires to drag up a happy memory, and finally finding one he concentrates on it as he casts a Patronus charm. He can see the soft glow through his eyes, and when he opens them, a white stag is standing at the foot of his bed, its head held high and mighty. A smile tugs at the corner of Harry’s mouth just seeing it, but it takes him a moment to realise that the coldness is gone and instead he feels safe.

It’s not something he can put into words, not a touch but something more profound that fills his heart and chest. It’s like receiving a hug from someone without them even being near you, but that offers just as much comfort and…love. That is probably the best way to describe what it is like being close to his Patronus, he feels loved and as he shifts closer and lets his fingers trail over the incorporeal snout of the stag it only increases until a soft chuckle escapes his mouth.

Harry takes a few minutes to just bask in the feeling and admire the stag as it turns on silent hooves to scan the room, on guard for anything that might try to harm him. Checking the time Harry discovers that it’s a little after two in the morning but unable to sleep and since he doesn’t want to wake up everyone else Harry slips off the bed. Dragging on his clothes and stepping into his trainers, Harry heads into the Common room, while his stag follows with its ghostly glow offering enough light for Harry to see the steps.

After he reaches the bottom step Harry pauses, he is tempted to relight the fire and curl up on the sofa, but he’s too restless to sit. His eyes move to the passage leading out into the castle, his favourite place to wander when he can’t sleep. He has avoided going on nightly strolls because of the ghost, but with his stag, Harry feels confident enough to venture out tonight. With a nod to himself, Harry holds his wand before him and without fear, but excitement steps forward to enjoy the silence of the sleeping castle.

Harry had forgotten how much he loved walking alone through the hallways at night, the soft light of the torches gleaming off the smooth stones and the echoing tap of only his feet. It is peaceful in a way that can’t be replicated during the day where there is always the sound of distant voices or the thump of doors being opened or even the patter of Mrs Norris’s paws as she hunts for mice or troublemakers. Harry can believe that he is the only one in the whole place and rather than be unnerved by that with his Patronus beside him, he’s relaxed. No worrying about what people are thinking or wide eyes staring as he passes, no classes to rush to or places he needs to be.

As he slowly walks around a corner he stops, a white wisp coming through the wall on his right which turns into Nearly Headless Nick, his brow drawn down in thought and he has to blink a few times at Harry before his expression shows recognition.

“Mr Potter I’m surprised to see you at this hour. Should you not be in bed?”

“I woke up early and wanted to take a walk. Is everything alright?”

Nick had turned away after asking Harry his question, and his head whips back quickly, his form swirling before settling to show the details of his face. Harry drops his Patronus charm, unable to keep it going as his mind focuses on the ghost before him and to save his waning energy.

“Fine, just seem a bit mixed up at the moment. I’d say I’ve lost my head, but it is unfortunately still very much attached,” Nick says, and Harry wonders if it was his attempt at a joke, but Nick only flashes him a smile before his expression pinches in concern.

“What’s going on?” Harry presses because he knows that Nick is hiding something from him and is determined to get to the bottom of it. “Is it about the strange feeling at Hogwarts?”

“Strange feeling? Ah yes, you mentioned that before but no, it seems we can’t find Peeves which is worrying. I don’t miss him being a nuisance, but there are concerns that his disappearance is a sign he’s up to no good, and the Headmistress has enlisted the other ghosts to find him and if possible stop him.”

Harry’s mind instantly begins to form ideas of giant water bombs or the stairs being covered with slime before he forces his thoughts away from contemplating what Peeves could be planning.

“Then I wish you luck, I’m in no mood for any of his tricks even if it is almost Halloween,” Harry says honestly, with them planning a party he wouldn’t be shocked if Peeves is waiting to strike then and ruin it for them.

“I concur, now I should continue my search,” Nick says as he heads forward towards the opposite wall.

“Just a sec, um you mentioned the other ghosts. I was wondering if there are any new ghosts at Hogwarts, someone that moved in after the war perhaps?” Harry asks both hopeful and heartbroken to hear an answer in case he hears a familiar name or names.

Nick’s face softens as he looks at Harry, and he slowly shakes his head, “Hogwarts has no new ghosts, they all crossed over the way they were meant to.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes and I’d advise you not to listen to Myrtle’s rumours, she’s only looking for attention the poor thing,” Nick replies with a nod that almost unbalances his head. “Now I really must be off, enjoy your walk, Mr Potter.”

Harry tries to call Nick back, but he’s already sinking through the wall and doesn’t respond. With several questions circling his head, Harry resigns himself to having to go to Myrtle for answers. Given a choice he’d rather avoid her, but he wants to know about these rumours about other ghosts just to be sure there isn’t any truth to them. He sighs as he cases a Lumos and makes his way down to the second floor and the girl’s bathroom, a tiny part of him hoping to find it empty while the rest want’s the information she might have.

The door creaks as he pushes it open and peers inside, but mets only silence after that, and for a moment, he hovers in the doorway, half tempted to turn back and return to his dorm. However, his curiosity pushes him to be sure that she isn’t here before giving up, so he drops the light spell and steps inside calling out for Myrtle. In the blink of an eye, Myrtle appears from inside one of the stalls that line the wall, a broad smile on her face as she lays eyes on him.

“Another guest, I am a lucky girl,” she says as she floats closer fluttering her eyelashes.

“Another guest?”

“Uh-huh, my friend visited me just a little while ago.”

“Your friend, the one you mentioned before. Is he the one haunting me?”

Myrtle giggles at Harry question and the sound of her girlish laughter is made worse by the echoes.

“No, silly.”

“Then what’s the weird coldness that’s been following me around the castle for weeks.”

At his words, Myrtle's smile disappears, and she swoops closer to him, so all he can see is how wide her eyes are behind her glasses, “You’ve felt it too. No one believed me about it except my friend.”

“Yes, yes, I have. What is it?”

Myrtle shrugs, “I don’t know what it is, when I felt it in my bathroom I flew away, so I didn’t see it. I just felt it, it was cold enough to make even me shudder,” she says, shaking her shoulders and almost passing though Harry who quickly takes a step back. His eyes scan the bathroom, and he raises his wand higher, ready to cast a Patronus, but he can’t feel the creepy sensation and the air doesn’t hold an unnatural chill.

“Where is it now?”

“Gone, my friend scared it off.”

“How?”

He shouts the word and only just stops himself from reaching for Myrtle and trying to shake the answer from her. She pouts as she crosses her arms and turns her back on him, letting out a high pitched sob.

“I’m sorry, I’m really sorry for shouting, but I need to know how to get rid of this thing,” Harry pleads, willing to do anything to appease her and get the information. Myrtle glances at him from over her shoulder, her eyes still narrowed with annoyance and it reminds Harry of someone for a moment. Before he can think about it in any depth Myrtle is flying closer to him, her words whispered like she’s sharing a secret.

“With his light, a pretty blue light.”

At the mention of blue light, Harry’s mind instantly goes to the orb that had shielded him in the library, which causes him to let out a sigh. He had been hoping for another solution, but as he had already discovered a normal light spell didn’t work. However, he is thankful to at least have his Patronus to protect himself with, and so he changes the direction of his questions.

“Can your friend get rid of the ghost?”

Myrtle frowns at him, her face screwing up in confusion. “What ghost?”

“The cold thing that we were talking about.”

“I don’t know if it’s a ghost or not a normal one.”

Unable to resist asking more questions, Harry jumps on this new piece of information, “Are you sure it’s not a ghost, it’s cold and can disappear without leaving a trace.”

“I suppose it had a ghostly feeling to it, it reminded me a little of Peeves and I thought it was him, to begin with until it got closer.”

“And now Peeves is missing, do you think the ghost got him?”

“Maybe, it would serve him right for being mean to me,” huffs Myrtle her icy breath hitting Harry’s face making him sneeze.

“Sure, anyway, can your friend get rid of it?” Harry asks again realising that he never got an answer.

“No, he’s not strong enough for that and pushing it back is difficult too.”

“Will your friend help me again?”

“I think so he likes helping. It makes him feel better,” she replies with a shrug before floating away towards one of the toilet stalls. “I’ll ask him next time he visits, will you come and see me again, Harry?”

“Uh, yeah,” Harry says honestly, the chance to find out more information is worth dealing with Myrtle who seems to be less annoying than he remembers. She smiles at Harry and gives a small wave before diving into the toilet and leaving Harry alone in the bathroom with only the creak of pipes and a dripping tap to break the silence. Aware that it’s getting late Harry heads back to the dorm with his head full of more questions but also perhaps some answers. He needs to tell Hermione and Ron what Myrtle said, and maybe between the three of them, they can work out what is going on.

He’s about to pull back the tapestry and use the short cut when a wave of magic passes over him. Spinning on his heels, he points his wand down the corridor casting a Lumos, but he doesn’t see even a flicker of movement. There also isn’t any chill in the air; instead, the magic felt like a warm caress that lasted only for a second. He remains in place for a little longer, ears straining but all he hears is his own soft breaths.

After checking himself over and finding no oblivious difference, he decides not to bother investigating as the sound of birds singing signals that the sun will rise soon and so will everyone else. He checks one last time, staring hard into the lightening shadows before he ducks into the passage and climbs the stairs. Distracted, he almost forgets the trick step but catches himself in time to avoid his foot, sinking thought the floor.

When he eventually reaches the seventh floor and enters the portrait to the Common room, he finds Hermione already awake with a book in her lap as she sits by the now lit fire. He pays no attention to the younger students that are staring at him as he smiles and walks directly towards her. She looks up at his approach, taking in his expression and smiling back.

“I have so much to tell you, but not here and not without Ron,” Harry says, unable to contain the excitement in his tone.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The prompt word for today is: Dreams

With it being Saturday, the golden trio doesn’t have to worry about classes and take advantage of that by finding a secluded spot after breakfast to discuss the newest developments in solving Harry’s ghost problem. In the clock tower courtyard, they huddle together on a bench in the corner and out of the bitter wind with one of Hermione’s blue flame jars for extra warmth. Harry starts telling them what he found out from Myrtle with Hermione stopping him whenever she has a question.

“So Myrtle is friends with the orb, so that is a ghost but the ghost haunting you isn’t like a normal ghost and more like a poltergeist such as Peeves,” Hermione says as she makes notes, adding in extra bits and drawing lines to link them together into a diagram that looks like a spiders web.

“Uh, yeah but Peeves is missing, so I can’t ask him about the ghost. Actually, I’m not sure he would talk to me anyway,” Harry adds thinking of how mischievous Peeves can be.

“That is strange and only makes this more confusing; Peeves can’t be removed from the castle. Not by anything, he is a part of it and is tied directly into the magic that surrounds it.”

“What do you mean?” Ron says before eating another chocolate frog from the collection of sweets, they have to snack on.

“A poltergeist isn’t the same as other ghosts; for starters, he was never a living person like Nick or Myrtle but the result of years of magic build-up from the children that have come to this school. They come here with uncontrollable magic that is tied directly to their emotions. All of that from hundreds of students over decades generated Peeves who represents and reflects the energy that made him which is childish, destructive and temperamental. It’s that energy that allows him to have a solid form and manipulate objects.”

“So we might be dealing with a poltergeist?”

“Or something similar, possibly a second poltergeist in the process of being created, which is why it doesn’t have a form yet. There isn’t much about the actual process of them being created; only the situations that cause them. There is also the possibility that it is another creature made of energy, a truly dark one from the reaction Harry has whenever it's close."

“Until we know for sure I’m going to keep calling it a ghost to make things easier,” Harry states, his heart rate increasing as a breeze sneaks across his neck and makes his shoulders tense.

“On the other side we have the orb, which we are pretty sure is a ghost and one that seems friendly or at least so far. From my research, I haven’t found a case of them being violent or harmful, and in some instances they have been known to help, mostly to find missing objects."

“So where does that leave us,” Harry asks as he leans down to look over Hermione’s notes which no longer makes any sort of sense to him.

“We have a ghost or something similar who is hostile towards you, Harry, a Patronus charm helps to fight back whatever magic is being used. An orb that Myrtle knows and has been helpful in the past and a missing poltergeist that shouldn’t be missing.”

“That doesn’t sound like a lot to go on,” Ron mutters, and Harry nods in agreement.

“It’s more than we had before, and from it, we can devise a plan. We need to talk to Myrtle again and see if she knows more about the ghost or the orb, there might be a way for us to use it to fight back if I can study it closely. That can wait a few days, and in the meantime, I’ll expand my research to look at things that use energy. Ron, I need you to keep your eyes open the next time the ghost makes an appearance, since it seems to only be affecting Harry you’ll have more chance of noticing anything strange going on. Harry, I need you to stay close so that we can see firsthand what this ghost can do. If it gets to be too much, then cast a Patronus or signal one of us to do it.”

“Right,” Ron says as Harry only nods. He would prefer not to be used as a guinea pig, but Hermione is right that he seems to be the only one affected. The coldness has appeared when he is near them before, but they hadn’t noticed anything but the sudden shift in his mood.

“What about the magic I felt after talking to Myrtle?” Harry asks, realising that he hadn’t mentioned it during his recount of what happened this morning.

“What magic?”

“For a second, I felt a wave of magic close by, it was sort of warm. I guess I forgot about it because nothing happened afterwards,” Harry says, running a hand through his hair as Hermione purses her lips in irritation at him.

“And you only now think to mention it, did you check to see if anyone was around?”

Harry lowered his head at Hermione’s scolding tone, “I looked around, but it was getting close to morning by that point, and I wanted to talk to you guys before I forgot anything important.”

“This is important; any strange magic could be a clue. Stand up.”

Without hesitation, Harry jumps up and remains still as Hermione waves her wand over him, her lips moving rapidly as she recites a spell under her breath which causes the tip of her wand to flash green.

“Well, you’re not cursed. It would have glowed red if there had been any type of harmful magic on you.”

“That’s a relief,” Harry mutters as his worry lessens at not being given bad news.

“It might have just been an apparating elf close by, you probably only noticed because you’ve been on edge recently,” Ron suggests.

Hermione tilts her head as she looks over at Ron before giving him a nod, “I guess that isn’t a bad explanation, and if it was almost morning, they would have been hurrying back to the kitchens to get breakfast ready.”

“Exactly.” More than happy to accept Ron’s words, Harry agrees and let his confidence over the theory push aside any doubts or worries he might have.

As the wind rises and the sky turns black, threatening rain the group move inside, ending up once more in the library surrounded by books. Harry is trying to catch up on his schoolwork after ignoring it for a few days along with Ron while Hermione reads about sprites and magical energy.

“Is there a smell when you feel the ghost?”

“What?” Harry says as Hermione's question come out of nowhere.

"I’m trying to rule things out, so any smells?”

“Um, sort of like decay, something rotten but it only lasted a moment.”

Hermione nods and crosses something off her list of notes, “You said it spoke, did you catch anything it said?”

This time Harry thinks hard before he answers, not sure how best to describe the whispers.

“It was like hearing someone talk through a wall, it was clearly words but completely muffled so that I couldn’t make any of them out. It was the fear I felt hearing the whispers that really got to me, that it seemed to draw out and heighten that emotion so that it filled my head and made my heart beat faster until I wondered if it would burst.”

Hermione continues to look at him after he finishes speaking, her expression full of remorse for Harry’s plight before she crosses off something in her notes and writes something else.

************************************

Hours later and after breaks, for lunch and dinner, they decide to call it a night, and Harry is sure that his evident tiredness is the reason. After being awake since the very early hours, he is exhausted, and his eyes droop as he fights to stop them from closing. With only a wave goodnight at Hermione, Harry drags himself up to bed, changes his clothes and is almost asleep before his head even hits the pillow. He has only enough energy to wonder if he’ll have another nightmare tonight after the ghost left him alone all day.

_ Harry yells out another spell as he runs for cover, but the enemy keeps coming, more death eaters and creatures pouring onto the grounds of Hogwarts. Harry has to keep them out, they can’t reach the castle doors or the people inside. He has to protect them. _

_He firms his grip on his wand and gets ready to drive them back when the sky goes dark, everything is being swallowed by shadows that close in around Harry. At the shadows approach, Harry forgets fighting and runs into the castle, winding down the corridors in the hope of losing the thing hunting him. _

_As he drops to his knees and drags open a trapdoor, planning to use the secret passage down to the dungeons to escape the shadow lunges at him. _

_Harry’s vision fills with blue light, a web of glowing lines that cover him like a net and forces the shadow back, causing it to let out a screech as the world around Harry changes. The light becomes the stars in the sky that Harry is flying through, the night fading to the day as warm rays of sunshine hit his face._

_ The shadow is nowhere to be seen, and a sense of peace fills Harry as he ducks and weaves through gentle breezes without the need for a broom. He throws his arms out wider as he laughs and spins to dive downwards, finding Hogwarts beneath him. He skims over the black lake, leaving ripples from his fingertips that just touch the surface before pulling upwards._

_ He flies around Gryffindor tower and waves at his friends leaning out of the windows to cheer him on. A flash of gold and the game is on as Harry chases the snitch into the castle, down stairways and through narrow corridors with an excitement he hasn’t experienced in a long time. There is not even a trace of fear or flutter of anxiety in his stomach, just the thrill of the game and the joy of flying. _

_As his hand wraps around the snitch, it turns into a lollypop decorated with orange pumpkins that float off the wrapper and flutter around his head before vanishing with tiny pops. _

_Floating down Harry’s feet touch the ground and he walks through the entrance to the Great Hall, filled with a feast and hundreds of happy, carefree faces. The ceiling above them shows nothing but the clear blue sky and blazing sun that warms the very air. Harry smiles as he closes his eyes and enjoys the heat and the chatter of voices and the smell of food._

As he stirs in bed and opens his eyes, a blurry glow seems to surround him but as he blinks the light fades to the faint rays of sunlight coming in from a gap in the curtains.

Harry shifts, burying his head into his still-warm pillow and tugs his blanket closer, wishing he could go back to the dream. It had been so lovely compared to his nightmares that he is loath to leave it, but his bladder is full and prevents him from drifting into sleep.

With a sigh, he pushes the blanket away and snatches his glasses from his table, pushing them on as he stretches. He can’t remember when he last felt so well-rested or full of energy, as he swings his legs out of bed. Harry lets out a hiss at the coldness of the floorboards on his bare feet and hurries to the bathroom, quickly using the toilet and washing his hands, face and teeth. Coming back into the dorm, he grabs his wand and casts a warming charm, wishing he had thought of it sooner, as he changes into his clothes. Ron wakes up as Harry’s is tying his laces and offers a sleepy greeting as he rubs his eyes.

“Sleep, alright, mate?”

“Actually I did,” Harry says with a smile which Ron tries to return only to end up yawning.

“Come on, sleepyhead,” Harry jokes as he pulls Ron's blanket away before leaving it on the floor. At Ron’s shout of annoyance he laughs and races down to the Common room, sure he’ll pay later for his cheekiness but in too good a mood to care.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So far I've managed to stay 3 or 4 chapter ahead of posting, so long as I can keep that up this fic will be finished before the end of the month.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The prompt word for today is: Sunday

“You’re in a good mood today,” Hermione mentions as Harry jumps the last step still wearing a large grin.

“Amazing what a good night’s sleep can do. I was having such a great dream I didn’t want to wake up.”

“That explains why I didn’t find you down here at the crack of dawn. Is Ron coming to breakfast, or is he sleeping in until lunch?”

Harry’s smile grows wider as he drops into the seat beside Hermione, “He’ll be down soon.”

Hermione frowns at him her mouth opening to speak when Ron bellows down from the top of the stairs, his hair sticking up where he’s tugged his jumper on.

“Better start running Harry!”

“That’s my cue, see you in the hall, with luck the food will distract him from killing me,” Harry rushes out as he vaults the back of the sofa and races to the Common room exit. He runs so fast down the corridor his feet hardly seem to touch the floor, and he spreads his arms out, pretending he is flying once again.

By the time Ron and Hermione join him, Harry has plates ready for both of them. Ron accepts his with a glower by beyond that seems to be over his annoyance, slowly growing more cheerful with each bite of food.

“So what’s the plan for today, more research or studying?”

“Neither, we’re helping with party preparations today. Dean is checking out the room and designing decorations with Seamus. Neville and Ginny are asking Hagrid about the pumpkins, and I volunteered us to speak to the house elves about food,” Hermione says as she spreads jam onto her toast.

“Do I have to go?” Harry asks. It’s not that he doesn’t like visiting the kitchen and talking with the elves but their constant over helpful attitudes and insistence on calling him mister makes him feel uncomfortable.

“Yes, some of them are still wary of me after I tried to set them free.”

“Plus anything for Mr Potter sir,” Ron adds in a high squeaky voice. Harry shoots him a dirty look but can’t hold onto his irritation when Ron mouths ‘payback’ at him.

“Alright, it shouldn’t take us long to talk to them. I’d still rather of got the pumpkins.”

“I did have another reason for offering to get the food,” Hermione says giving Harry a look that shows she expects him to have worked out the answer when he didn’t even know he’d been asked a question. “The elves are very good at noticing things,” she hints, and Harry’s brain clicks as he cottons on to her meaning.

“You think they might know more about the ghost.”

“Yes and maybe what happened to Peeves too.”

Once they finish eating the trio makes their way to the kitchen, tickling the pear to open the secret door. The moment they step in three elves rush over, heads bobbing as they bow.

“Sirs and Miss, how can we help?”

Harry notices how they are directing their question at him and darting wary glances at Hermione.

“Um, we’d like for some food to be delivered to the room of requirement on Halloween for a party. Just a few bits for people to snack on,” Harry explains aware even as he says it that the elves will deliver a feast only just smaller than the one that will be served in the Great Hall.

“We can do’s that Mr Potter sir. We’s be happy to make food for you’s party,” the elf on the right says. One ear flopping lower than the other as he grins up at Harry before rushing off. The other two remain their smiles just as broad and expressions eager.

“Is there being anything else? We’s can makes some food now for you,” an elf with bright blue eyes says standing up taller and only just reaching past Harry’s knees.

“Oh, no, that’s fine. We’ve just had breakfast. It was delicious,” Hermione says, and the elf glances at her and offers another bow.

“Thanks, you Miss.”

“There is something you could help us with if you can spare a few minutes?”

At Harry’s words, the elves turn to fix their large eyes on him, “We has time, sir, elves like to be helpful.”

“We know,” Ron mutters and gets nudged in the side by Hermione’s elbow in response.

“Have you noticed anything strange in Hogwarts? A bad feeling or weird shadows?”

The elves smiles disappear, and they glance nervously at each other as they tug at their uniforms, wringing the fabric in their hands.

“We has felt something. We do not know what it is, but it sneaks around and gets bigger,” the blue-eyed elf whispers, her, or Harry thinks she’s a her, tone making it clear she’s not happy talking about it.

“Bigger?” Harry murmurs as his heart rate picks up and a sick feeling settles in his gut.

“Bigger, stronger. Is not good,” the other elf adds, the tip of his pointy nose is turned up, and he taps it as he looks hard at Harry.

“Have you told the Headmistress?” Hermione asks, and the elves shake their heads, “Why not?”

“It is not elves place to tell without being asked,” the female elf states with a frown of disapproval at Hermione.

“What about Peeves? Has he been found or have any of you seen him?” Harry jumps back in before Hermione can start a debate about elf rights and insult their current informers.

“Dink saw the polty-ghost,” the male elf says as he rushes off and returns with a brown-eyed elf whose ears stick straight out like a bat.

“How can Dink help?”

“You saw peeves? When and where?”

“Three nights past, in the dungeons. The polty-ghost was there then he is gone,” says Dink as he tugs on one of his ears.

Harry’s head whips from the elf to Hermione, but her wide eyes show that she is as surprised as him.

“That’s good right, if Peeves is still around?”

“I guess, it still doesn’t explain why he hasn’t been up to his usual tricks.”

Harry can hear the trace of worry in her voice, and he quickly thanks the elves and drags her and Ron outside so they can talk.

“Maybe we should talk to the Headmistress if it’s getting bigger.”

“No, not yet. I’m sure we can work this out, and now that I can protect myself with a Patronus I’m less worried than before. At the very least we still need to talk to Myrtle again, and maybe we can even find Peeves. I bet he is working on a prank for Halloween like Nick said,” Harry suggests feeling a bit more confident. He didn’t want any mysteries this year, but he’s determined to solve this one now.

_ This day started off so well,_ he muses and hates that his good mood is being ruined by some ghost, he couldn’t have one day where nothing bad happened, or he didn’t get bad news.

“We’ll tell the teachers soon, I promised remember. If we can’t fix this and things get worse, but they are getting better, and we’re slowly getting closer to a solution.”

It’s clear that Hermione isn’t happy with his argument and neither is Ron, as she bites her lip and he shifts from one foot to the other.

“It’ll be alright, the three of us have always managed to solve whatever problem we’ve faced. Have a little faith,” Harry tries once more to persuade them. Hermione sighs but nods and Ron gives him a small smile of agreement.

“Why don’t we take the rest of the day just to relax, everything has gotten really stressful, and we all need to recharge. I’m considering going for a fly, wanna come along?”

“Nah, not this time, unless you want someone to stay with you in case the ghost appears?”

“I have my Patronus, so I can look after myself. Actually, I bet you’d both like a break from hanging out with me,” Harry says, wiggling his eyebrows and watching his friends' faces turn red as they blush.

“We really should stay together,” Hermione tries to argue, but Harry shakes his head at her.

With a big grin, he reaches out and pushes them both further down the hallway. “Go have fun, I’ll fly around for an hour or two and met you in the hall for lunch, got it.”

Not waiting for an answer, Harry turns and heads off to the pitch, his earlier cheerful mood resurfacing at the prospect of soaring through the air.

As Harry comes out of a spin, he notices a figure sitting in the Slytherin stands and curious he swoops in for a closer look. Before he’s even halfway across the pitch, he recognises the person sat in the stands, Malfoy’s blonde hair shines like a beacon in even the weak autumn sun. For just a second, he slows and considers continuing his laps and ignoring his unexpected spectator.

The wind picks up and pushes him closer, and he decides at that moment that he should say hi and maybe thank Malfoy again for the idea about using a Patronus. The closer Harry gets the more details he can make out, Malfoy’s head is bent downwards staring at the book in his lap and not aware of Harry’s approach. Slowing down, Harry rides the wind closer, trying to stay quiet and see how long it takes Malfoy to spot him.

At about 15 feet, Malfoy’s head rises, and he freezes in place as he locks eyes with Harry before he looks away and closes the book with a snap. Harry surges forward as Malfoy shoves his book into his bag and stands up, making it unmistakably clear that he plans to leave.

“Hey Malfoy,” Harry calls slipping off his broom to land on the bench Malfoy had been sat on.

“I’m already going,” Malfoy replies as he shoves his hand in a pocket and pulls out another lollypop.

“How many of those do you have?” Harry asks, dropping into the seat with a smile, while Malfoy pauses to look back at him.

“Not enough,” Malfoy says as he finishes taking off the wrapper and pops the sweet into his mouth, moving it to one side so that his cheek is pushed outwards.

“I’m not interested in your candy Malfoy.”

His words cause Malfoy to smirk as an eyebrow rises, and for some unknown reason, Harry feels his cheeks heat.

“I mean, I just wanted to come and say hi.”

“Hello,” Malfoy says after taking the lolly from his mouth, replacing it he then tilts his head to the side.

“You can sit back down, or better yet grab a broom and we’ll have a race,” Harry offers, only after the words are out wondering why he had said them. Malfoy’s eyes narrow as he lowers himself back down on the bench, a few feet between them that neither of them attempts to close.

“Ok, I’ll bite. What’s going on and what are you after then,” Malfoy pulls another lolly from his pocket and twirls the stick between his fingers, “If not my candy?” he finishes before tossing the sweet at Harry who catches it.

“I’m not after anything,” Harry says as he flashes a smile at Malfoy and slips the lolly into his pocket, “But I won’t turn down a gift. I wanted to say thank you again for your suggestion of using a Patronus charm.”

Malfoy only nods in reply as he sucks softly on the lolly in his mouth and Harry finds his eyes drawn to Malfoy’s mouth as he pulls the lolly free and licks his lips.

“You already said thank you, but you’re welcome.”

Harry quickly looks away, his face warming once again and he hopes that Malfoy doesn’t notice, or where he’d been staring.

“So what are you doing out here?”

“I’m not doing anything Potter. I’m not up to something.” The sharpness of Malfoy’s tone and the way his eyes narrow, pushing Harry to explain quickly.

“I didn’t think you were, just curious why you’re spending your Sunday sitting up here.”

Malfoy’s expression softens, and he looks away his tongue coming out to lick at the lolly as he thinks before answering.

“It’s peaceful out here. Quiet too, usually anyway. I considered finding somewhere else to go when I saw you here.”

“But you didn’t,” Harry points out, sliding a little closer along the bench, making Malfoy whip his head around to look at him.

“No, I figured you wouldn’t notice.”

“It’s kinda hard to miss you Malfoy,” Harry teases and realises that it sounds like he’s flirting. It seems that no matter what he says, it comes out sounding wrong. He’s about to explain himself once again, but Malfoy’s cheeks are pink, and Harry is sure that it’s not from the wind.

Harry tightens his grip on his broom and clears his throat while gazing away over the pitch and eager to change the subject and avoid the risk of embarrassing himself or Malfoy, he points at Malfoy’s bag, “What were you reading?”

“Oh, nothing interesting,” Malfoy says as he places the lolly in his mouth resting it on his tongue, nervously twisting the stick.

“Why do you carry lolly’s around?”

“I told you I like treats. They also have the benefit of reminding me to think before opening my mouth not that it helped with Weasley.”

“Yeah,” Harry mutters softly, “He was out of line, but I think he understands that now.”

“Hmm,” Malfoy answers, not bothering to take the sweet out as he stares out over the pitch, his brows drawn down. Harry shifts a tiny bit closer and is about to ask him what he’s thinking about when Malfoy stands.

“It’s getting colder out here, think I’ll head inside.”

Harry feels a little hurt at Malfoy’s sudden desire to get away; it had been nice just talking with Malfoy. He doesn’t think they’ve ever just talked before and he’s loath to stop now when they seem to have put the past behind them. He smiles up at Malfoy, and it grows bigger when Malfoy gives him a small smile back.

“Let me put my broom away, and I’ll walk back with you,” Harry offers and has to bite back a laugh when Draco looks at him with wide eyes.

“Another time, I have something to take care of,” Malfoy says sounding, at least to Harry, disappointed. “Talk again soon, Potter.”

Malfoy quickly strides towards the stairs that lead down and out of the quidditch stadium, only to pause when he reaches them to call back to Harry.

“Do you have your wand?”

“Um, yeah,” Harry says, confused as he pulls it out from his pocket.

Malfoy smirks at him, “Good.”

Then he’s gone, racing away down the steps and leaving Harry wondering what that had been about.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The prompt word for today is: Lucky

Harry shuts the door to the broom locker and pulls the lolly from his pocket, twirling it between his fingers. _What had that been about?_ He thinks as he examines the white ghosts decorating the wrapper on this sweet. This isn’t the first time Malfoy has said something strange to him, and he seriously considers that Malfoy might know something about what’s been happening to him recently. It’s either that or he had some other reason to ask about Harry’s wand.

There’s a chance it was some dig about Harry taking his wand during the war, but Harry had returned it, or he’d sent it back anyway without even a note to say thanks. He regrets that now, but he hadn’t been in any state to deal with Malfoy or his reaction, which he’d assumed would have been hatred filled venom but perhaps not.

The Malfoy that had returned to Hogwarts this year is so different than the one Harry had known before, he’s quieter more contained. He used to strut down the hallways, lording over everyone like he was better. Malfoy still holds himself with that inner confidence, but he wears it like a cloak, wrapping it around himself as he keeps his head up and focuses on classes. He doesn’t mouth off or go looking for confrontation but is still quick to use his sharp tongue when needed, and his dry wit is pretty funny if Harry is honest.

With a sigh, he places the lolly back in his pocket even as his mind supplies him with an image of Malfoy's lips wrapped around the treat, cheeks hollowing where he had been sucking. Harry licks his own lips and pushes that thought away, embarrassed at the direction his mind had headed.

Shaking his head Harry tries to clear it and forget about that bit of their interaction, the fact they had once again managed to talk civilly to each other is much more important, even if his hormones disagree. It had been nice and less awkward than Harry could have predicted and if they continued to have these small chats he could picture them becoming friends, the insults and sarcasm turned to teasing jokes, no different than the way he and Ron messed around.

_ Except I’ve never stared at Ron's mouth, especially when he’s eating_, Harry admits his nose crinkling as he thinks of Ron's terrible table manners. Once more he pushes away that thought and where it might lead, focusing instead on Malfoy’s erupt departure and wondering what exactly Malfoy had to go and do or if he had just wanted to get away from him. It’s not like he bothered to consider if Malfoy wants to be friends, maybe he only put up with Harry talking to him because he doesn’t want to be rude.

Harry frowns at that idea, Malfoy might have changed, but if he really didn’t want to stay, then he would have left the moment Harry landed his broom. He’s overthinking this whole thing, and he knows it but something Malfoy said niggles in the back of his head, jumping around as it tries to get his attention. Harry racks his brain and tries to remember what Malfoy had said, something about it getting cold…

His footsteps slow and Harry swallows as he realises that the temperature around him has dropped and his shoulders have tensed, tightening without his conscious input. In the middle of the school grounds, Harry stops, the only sound to be heard is the thump of his blood being pumped around his body as his heart beats in fear.

Da-dum

Da-dum

Da-dum

He widens his stance and draws his wand while he turns on the spot searching for the enemy, a shadow or anything else amiss. The rolling grassland is damp but undisturbed, with not a single thing out of place to explain his sudden feeling of restlessness.

Nevertheless, the terror is growing stronger and the air colder as he pants in irregular breaths and keeps his wand pointed out before him. He clenches his hand tighter on his wand as he fights the desire to scratch at his skin; it itches and prickles with the sensation of insects crawling over every inch of his body. As he faces once more toward the castle, Harry steps forward, and grits his teeth to stop them chattering as he breathes come out in foggy white puffs. His fingers are slowly going numb the knuckles painful as they lock in place around his weapon.

_ Where is it_, he wonders as he keeps walking while his eyes continue to dart around desperately trying to find the source, but nothing moves around him. Even the trees have gone quiet and their fiery foliage still without a single breeze to stir and rustle them. It’s getting harder to walk, his legs are starting to ache as the muscles freeze and his joints seize. With each second that passes Harry becomes wearier until it’s a struggle just to keep his head up and it eventually drops as he braces a hand on his knee. That’s the moment he sees the shadow, directly under his feet.

Its pitch black in colour so that to Harry it looks like he is standing over a bottomless pit that will swallow him whole and he’ll never escape from it. He blinks, and his horror only increases as he studies its shape, the darkness covers his own shadow. A copy of Harry himself without features and full of a wrongness that churns his stomach until he thinks that the shivers racking his body will make him puke.

Somehow he finds the strength to step away, but the shadow clings to the bottom of his foot, like a thick tar that can’t be shaken loose. Harry’s mouth drops open as his heart jumps into his throat and forces out a gasp, a huff of air that empties his lungs and heightens the panic that is taking control of his mind. He can’t get away, can’t run this time, but that doesn’t mean he’ll give up.

He has enough sense left to remember that his wand is still in his hand, so he sucks in an icy breath and remembers Ron’s grin and the spark in Hermione’s eyes, he remembers Ginny declaring herself Queen of the monopoly board and Malfoy’s smirk as he threw Harry another sweet. His mouth curls upwards as he casts the spell, feeling the rush of magic flowing from his chest down his arm into his fingers and then into his wand. In comparison to the cold, it burns like fire, scorching his palm, but Harry doesn’t dare let go on his wand or the happiness fueled by his memories.

As his Patronus forms before him, the light that radiates from it warms his body like rays of sunlight and in amazement, Harry watches as it rears up, head thrashing before it slams its front hooves onto the ground. The shadow shrinks back at the action as a screech fills the air and hurts Harry’s ears but when he glances down, he can see patches of his own shadow, a soft grey in colour on the grass.

The stag rears again, snorting out a wisp of smoky energy as it stamps downwards and this time the shadow flees. It becomes shapeless as it trails away in, spreading out into black lines that slither like snakes until the thin out and disappear completely. The stag trots around Harry, it’s antlers thrashing as if ensuring the threat is gone while Harry takes a deep breath of fresh, crisp air and is flooded with a sense of relief.

Harry laughs as he reaches out and runs his hand over the back of his Patronus, wisps of magic coming off it like steam to coil around his fingers. In his life, Harry has had some lucky escapes but this moment feels like his luckiest, out here with no one for miles he’s not sure what would have happened if he didn’t have his protector. He takes a moment to calm down before he continues to the castle, his stag walking beside him and soothing his nerves with the comfort that surrounds its misty form.

As Harry steps over the threshold he reaches into his pocket and pulls out the lolly once again, taking the wrapper off he places the sweet into his mouth and hums at the orange flavoured sugar that covers his tongue. He makes a mental note to himself to buy Malfoy some more treats so he can return the favour and maybe try and make Malfoy smile again.

Aware that he needs to tell his friends what happened and preparing his argument for Hermione, who would once again suggest speaking to the teachers, Harry drops his Patronus spell and heads for the great hall.

Entering his eyes imminently move to the Slytherin table and when he discovers Malfoy missing a pang of worry stabs into his chest. For a second, he looks back towards the doors and even takes a step that way before Hermione calls his name. Her eyes are bright with concern, and Harry can only guess what’s going through her head.

It’s very possible that she saw his hesitation and believes the ghost is here now. Realising this, Harry has no choice but to reassure her while hoping that Malfoy will show up soon and if not Harry will be going looking for him. The questions begin the moment he drops into the seat, rushing out of Hermione’s mouth in a whisper as Ron leans in to listen.

“I’m fine,” he says back just as quietly, “Really, I’m fine.”

Hermione’s frown doesn’t lessen even after he repeats himself, but he can’t blame her for worrying when he has a habit of covering up whatever is bothering him.

“The ghost isn’t here, not now. It snuck up on me as I was coming back from the pitch, but my Patronus drove it away.”

“I knew we shouldn’t have left you alone,” Hermione hisses as her hand rests on his shoulder.

“I told you to, no point blaming yourself for my stupidity.” Harry taps the end of Hermione’s nose making her blink before a smile spreads over her face. He gives her a smile back and then explains what happened and even includes the run-in he had with Malfoy beforehand.

“That’s a pretty strange thing to ask,” Hermione mutters as her brow draws together and her eyes stare fixedly downwards, the wheels turning in her mind as she puzzles over it.

“I knew that little snake was up to something, I bet he’s behind all this crap somehow,” Ron growls as he bangs his fist on the table which attracts plenty of stares from the other Gryffindors.

“Ron, he’s not-.” Harry’s words dry upon his tongue as Malfoy steps quickly into the hall, his eyes going directly to Harry’s and when they meet the corner of Malfoy's mouth lifts. Harry raises a hand and gives a small wave which widens Malfoy's smile before he heads over to his house table.

“What was that?” Ron asks in confusion which makes Harry chuckle.

“I believe they call it a smile, not sure, I might have to double-check that,” he jokes, causing Hermione to snort but Ron to frown.

“I’m serious, are you two friends now or something?”

Harry shrugs “Or something. I don’t know, but he’s not bad to talk to, pretty funny really.”

“Is that so,” Hermione says, her head tilting down as she peers through her lashes at Harry with a smug smile. Instantly heat rushes to Harry’s cheeks, and he ducks his head to hide it, worried Hermione will misunderstand his reaction.

“Not like that.”

“Hell no, please don’t tell me you’re crushing on Malfoy.”

“I am not crushing on him or anyone else for that matter. I’m kinda busy being haunted, so dating isn’t much of a priority.”

Ron drops his head onto the table as he mutters under his breath, “Of all the bloody people, he likes the ferret. I should get Harry’s head examined because he’s gone crazy.”

Harry glares at Ron, but it’s a wasted effort since he can’t see it and huffs in annoyance.

“Give it a rest, will you. We’ve got a ghost to catch so hurry up and eat shaggy, while Velma and I come up with a plan.”

“What?” Ron says lifting his head to stare at Harry.

“I’m not sure if I should be flattered or insulted that you picked Velma for me. So who does that make you, Scooby?”

“Always finding the monster first and then running away screaming, it certainly fits, but I’d rather be Fred. Do you want to be my Daphne?” Harry throws his arm over Hermione's shoulders and puckers his lips while making kissy noises.

Shaking her head Hermione pushes his face away, “I’ll stick with being Velma, thanks.”

“Will someone explain what the bloody hell is going on?” Ron shouts drawing attention to the three of them again as Harry and Hermione break down in laughter.

“It’s a muggle TV show,” Hermione says before explaining it in more detail once she’s able to speak again. Harry is just relieved that his diversion worked and they’ve forgotten all about the Malfoy thing. He peers over at Malfoy, an apple in hand he’s busy reading a book but as if sensing Harrys gaze his eyes lift. Harry quickly looks away before he can start blushing again and joins his friend’s conversation of possibly going as the Scooby gang to the Halloween party.

The idea is eventually vetoed as Ron points out that a lot of people won’t get it and that having to explain it twenty times will ruin it, “Plus it’s not exactly scary is it.”

“True, I’m sure we can find some decent costumes when we go to Hogsmead next week. Hopefully, we’ll have this ghost problem wrapped up by then.”

Harry really wants to enjoy the party, and that will be easier if he doesn’t have to continually be on the lookout for real ghosts or monsters. As they eat lunch, Harry’s problems are pushed out of his mind by the conversations around the table as people gossip about their plans for the upcoming holiday or admire the decorations in the great hall. Hagrid's giant pumpkins with their craved faces have pride of place in every corner of the room, and conjured bats swoop above their heads, even the ghosts are getting into the sprite of things.

Nick is pulling his head to the side for the first years, making them shriek in mock terror and the Fat Friar is popping his head through the Hufflepuff table at random to see who he can surprise. The Grey Lady is talking with the Ravenclaws who are hanging on her every word, food hanging before their faces as they are frozen by the story she is telling.

The Bloody Baron’s laugh rings out, and his usually sombre expression has been turned into a smile while he whispers into a Slytherin’s ear. The grin that appears on the students face suggesting that he has just been given an excellent idea for a prank. Harry makes sure to memories the forth years face so he can avoid being the target. Regardless of that, Harry can’t stop himself being sweep up in the excitement that fills Hogwarts at this time of year and jumps into a discussion between Dean and Seamus about the best Halloween Films.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The prompt word for today is: Sword

Harry drops back as they leave charms, letting Ron and Hermione move away from him as a stab of guilt settles in his stomach. He had promised to stay close after what happened yesterday, but he doesn’t think Malfoy would talk to him while he is with Ron. Carefully he keeps his eyes trained on Malfoy, and when he heads down a different corridor to the flowing mass of students heading to lunch, Harry waits and ducks down the same path. Hermione and Ron are busy talking and don’t even turn to notice, and he hopes they don’t panic when they find him missing.

He really should have told them what he was planning, but he doesn’t want to deal with their questions or more of the look’s Hermione had given him throughout Charms as his gaze continued to drift over to Malfoy. He doesn’t even know precisely why he wants to talk to Malfoy, Harry does want to know why he asked about his wand, but that’s an excuse, a reason to begin a conversation. Harry is also aware of the small packet of muggle Halloween sweets in his pocket, a collection of tiny gummy spiders and bats and other things. He’s not sure if he’ll have the nerve to give them to Malfoy, but at least he’ll have proof that he’s not just following Malfoy because he keeps handing out lollipops.

As Malfoy disappears around a corner before him, Harry pushes his worries aside and ignores the butterflies that dance in his stomach as he walks faster to catch up. Rounding the corner, he’s disappointed to find the hallway empty, and wonders where Malfoy could have gone. The doors he passes are all shut, and he’s sure that he would have heard the unavoidable scrap of wood on stone if one of them being opened or closed. It’s with a frown that he realises he doesn’t even remember when Malfoy’s footsteps stopped; the noise had just seemed to vanish while he had been distracted with the anxious thoughts that had been spinning around in his head.

He keeps going anyway and convinces himself that Malfoy is just around the next corner, waiting as he leans against the wall and probably sucking on one of his sweets with a smirk. Already smiling, Harry turns the corner and once more finds nothing; he comes to a stop and bites on his lip as he ponders if Malfoy is deliberately avoiding him or if he had missed something. They had seemed to be getting along yesterday, and this morning they had shared a nod of greeting at breakfast and then a smile before Charms class began and they stood together in the corridor.

Pushing up his glasses, Harry tries to be logical about all this, rather than work out why Malfoy disappeared he should be concentrating on where he went. They are on the third floor, which besides the Charms classroom also houses the trophy room and armour gallery as well as a secret trap door that leads to the dungeons. If Malfoy knew about it, he might have used it as a shortcut to his Common room rather than climb down four flights of stairs. It makes sense to Harry after all Malfoy might have needed to get something from his dorm for their next class, and that’s why he didn’t head to lunch with everyone else.

Harry races further down the corridor, turning right and then left before dropping to his knees and tapping at the floor, one of the large flagstones lifts with only a whisper of stone scraping on stone. He twists and hangs his legs over the edge, and then Harry takes a lungful of air to prepare himself before he drops down. The wind gets knocked out of him as his arse hits the smooth edge of the tunnel and he slides downwards into pure darkness as the door above him closes once more. He comes out the other end and bends his knees as his feet hit the ground, and throws his hands out to so he doesn’t fall flat on his face. Standing up his wipes the dirt from his hands and quickly looks around him at the dimly lit passage of the dungeons.

The air is colder his far down and Harry pulls his robes tighter thankful that he had managed to talk the hat out of sorting him into Slytherin. He doesn’t know how they can stand living in the cold and drafty, not to mention creepy dungeons. With Malfoy still nowhere in sight, Harry heads to the Slytherin Common room, he’ll either find Malfoy there, or he can wait until he comes out.

Once he arrives Harry paces nervously before the plain brickwork, at first worried that he’s not in the right place for the door and then becoming more worried that he was wrong in thinking that Malfoy had come this way at all. The minutes drag, and he starts to feel like an idiot hanging around, waiting for someone who might not even be here. He should have planned this better; it had begun as an idea in Charms class. He thought that he could just walk over to Malfoy after class and say hi, but Malfoy had marched out of the door while Harry was still putting away his books without even a backwards glance. After that, he then thought of chasing after him in the hallway, but Ron and Hermione would have followed possibly thinking he was after the ghost, and that would have been awkward and embarrassing. If he’s honest that’s pretty much how Harry feels right now, so he lets out a sigh and turns away. He'd go to the hall and apologise to his friends and maybe if he explained they would give him a bit of space to talk to Malfoy when they all made their way to their Defence Against the Dark Arts class.

With a heavy heart and a churning stomach, Harry drags his feet as he climbs the stairs upwards, as hungry as he feels Harry isn’t looking forward to the lecture he’ll be getting from his friends. Ron’s face would probably turn red as he shouted about Harry acting dumb, but it would be nothing compared to Hermione’s wrath. She doesn’t scream, doesn’t snap and somehow that makes it worse as she purses her lips and her eyes full of disappointment bore into his very soul. It’s a talent women seem to possess, whether they just pick it up as they get older or if they get training from another woman he isn’t sure. He can actually imagine McGonagall meeting with Hermione in secret to train her how to make a person squirm with shame using nothing but a look.

For a second, he smiles, but it doesn’t last as he gets closer to the Great Hall and his nervousness grows, twisting in his stomach like snakes. The coldness from his trip to the dungeons clings to him, and he rubs his hands over his arms in the hope of removing it before contemplating casting a warming charm over himself. However, that’s the moment he notices the dread building in his gut and realises how alone he is, once again.

His head spins to the right before he gets the chance to draw his wand as the suit of armour beside him creaks and time speeds up. Frozen in fear Harry watches as it raises its arm, a long sword held in its hand that is swinging downwards directly at him. In a bout of panic, he tries to jump back but trips over his own feet and falls backwards with a painful thump.

The back of his head throbs from hitting the floor and has left him dazed so that by the time he considers moving out of the way it’s already too late, and all Harry can do is shut his eyes in preparation for death. The sharp edge is going to slice right through his skull, and he can’t do anything to stop it.

His heart is still beating a mile a minute as the second's pass, and Harry remains frozen in terror on the cold floor. He risks opening his eyes and regrets it as he finds the tip of the sword less than an inch from his nose shining with a faint blue glow that forms into a sphere and zips away. The cry he lets out is full of his fear as Harry wiggles away enough to get out from under the sword. He doesn’t stop there and shuffles back on his arse until he hits the wall opposite, and he looks with apprehension at the other suits lining the corridor.

He’s positive that it’s only because his senses are on high alert from his near-death experience that he hears the sound of footsteps quickly moving away. He doesn’t even think of giving chase; his limbs are shaking too much for him to stand. With trembling hands, he pulls out his wand, and it almost falls from his fingers, but he manages to grip it firmly as he lets out the breath he had been holding. Aware that his chest is still burning he takes a few deep breaths and waits for his heart to slow. All the time he keeps his wand held close to his chest and mutters out a warming charm, not because the ghost is near. He can feel that it’s gone, but his body still feels cold anyway as another shiver travels down his back.

After a few minutes, he uses the wall to push himself onto his feet and carefully walks down the corridor to the Great Hall, his eyes darting from one suit of armour to the next, on guard now for any hint of movement. They remain perfectly still, almost mocking him with their stillness and the darkness that looks out from their visors as they stand in silent sentry.

As he gets to the hall, students are already leaving, undisturbed and unaware of Harry’s almost demise. He keeps his head down, not wanting their attention as he fights to reach the safety of his friends.

“Harry, where the hell were you?”

Ron’s growled words are a godsend and Harry’s head shoots up at hearing them and he pushes people aside without regret until he’s wrapping his arms around Hermione. His fingers curl into fists as he clasps the back of her robe and holds her close.

“It’s alright Harry, it’s ok now,” she whispers as she pushes him away and then takes his hand to tug him somewhere more private, Ron moving to Harry’s other side and boxing him in. It made him feel safer and scared in equal measure as he considers the possibility of them getting hurt to protect him.

They duck into an empty classroom and confessions spill out of Harry’s mouth of where he went and why he didn’t tell them. What happened with the armour and the footsteps he heard. He’s shaking again by the time he finishes and wraps his arm around himself to lessen them.

“I’m so sorry, I won’t wander off again. It was stupid and reckless, and I’m so…”

“Enough Harry, you’ve apologised enough, and we’re both just grateful that you’re alright and the orb managed to protect you again though I’m not sure how,” Hermione says with a frown before shaking her head.

“Anyway, I figured you had gone looking for Malfoy when you both disappeared after class. I thought that meant you at least weren’t on your own, I thought if you didn’t come to lunch, we’d see you at the next class.”

“Malfoy didn’t come to lunch?”

Ron shakes his head but doesn’t say anything else. Leaving Harry to wonder just where Malfoy had gone and if there is a chance something terrible had happened to him. His mind spins as he pictures the ghost finding Malfoy as it comes for him and creates a bubble of worry in Harry’s heart that only seems to grow more prominent the more he thinks about the possibility. So when Hermione mentions they are running late for class and asks Harry if he still wants to go, he readily agrees, stating that he can’t afford to miss class if he wants to be a Professor someday.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The prompt word for today is: Shack

“Are you sure you’re alright to go to class?”

“Honestly I’m ok, it just really shocked me, the ghost has never moved things before,” Harry says as they rush to defence glad that it’s only on the first floor.

“It’s getting smarter,” Hermione states confidently, “It tried attacking you directly but was chased off by the orb, then it tried to ambush you outside, hiding in your shadow and was chased off again by your Patronus. This time it moved the armour, something typically a poltergeist would be able to do.”

Harry's heart lurches in his chest, he’s always been aware that his ghost had a presence, but Hermione’s words make it clear that it can also think, and has at least a reasonable level of intelligence. It’s a worrying realisation since it means that he can’t predict what it will try next. His Patronus is only good at protecting him if he has time to cast it, and the ghost knows it. By sneaking around it’s managed to catch Harry off guard twice, and if Harry wasn’t sure before if the spirit could or would hurt him, he did now, and it scares him.

When they reach the classroom, Harry pushes open the door and is greeted with Malfoy’s voice as he stands by the teacher’s desk.

“…I spent my lunch break trying to find my textbook before I realised I left it in the library yesterday and had to go there to get it. I really am sorry for my tardiness sir.”

“I wonder if your classmates are also sorry. What excuse do you three have for being late?” Professor Woodrow says as he crosses his arms while leaning on the edge of his desk.

“Ah, um,” Harry mutters casting looks at Hermione and Ron, hoping one of them could think of a good answer.

“Harry took a nasty fall on the way here, I checked him over and healed him up, but I’ve told him that if he starts feeling dizzy or sick that he needs to go to the hospital wing. We’re very sorry sir,” Hermione comes out with, and Harry shoots her a quick glare. Why did he have to be the one that got hurt, he gripes internally, not caring about the almost truth in her answer.

As he turns to look at the teacher, he catches Malfoy’s eye, and the concern that seems to flash in them makes Harry rub at the back of his neck in embarrassment, “That’s right, sorry Sir.”

The look Professor Woodrow gives him makes it clear that he doesn’t believe them at all, but rather than call them out on it, he waves his right hand towards their seats.

“Yes yes, just sit down before we waste any more time and make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

The four of them all mutter out variations of ‘yes sir’ and hurry to sit down since Professor Woodrow isn’t known for his patience. However, Harry can’t fault his knowledge or teaching style since he delivers his lectures in an exciting way, and he’s always willing to make an effort to help those with questions.

Harry would guess that he’s in his fifties, still young by wizard standards with short-cropped grey hair and keen brown eyes. The scar on his cheek and the missing pinky finger of his left-hand visible proof of his years as a curse breaker, as is his relaxed approach to things like dress codes and students arriving late. Currently, his Professor robes are hung over the back of his chair, and he instead wears a black t-shirt that displays the logo of a muggle rock band with a pair of washed-out pale blue jeans.

“Now, today, we will be discussing the most deadly of the dark creatures in our world. The lethifold,” Professor Woodrow says as he draws his wand and points it at the floor. Harry’s heart stops as a pure black patch appears in the centre of the classroom, so similar to his ghost that he’s a second from jumping up and drawing his own wand. Then the thing moves, its form rippling as it rises and now it resembles a hooded wizard cloak no different than the one he’s wearing.

“The lethifold or the living shroud as it is sometimes called is a master of disguise and uses its harmless and mundane appearance to avoid detection.”

Peering closer Harry can see what he means as the image twists before them, its thin body and the way it shifts mimicking how a cloak moves in the wind. If Harry didn’t know that Professor Woodrow has a very particular sense of humour, then he might have believed this a prank, a trick for Halloween to tease the students.

“Many people believe these things are related to dementors, not only because of their fashion sense but because the only spell known to stop a lethifold is a Patronus charm. A fortunate discovery made by Flavius Belby in 1782, when one of these attacked him while he was away on holiday. However, that knowledge is mostly useless as their prey seldom have the chance to cast the spell before the creature strikes. If they can cast it, that is,” Professor Woodrow adds as he smiles around at his students.

His voice grows higher as he continues to explain, something almost like excitement but probably closer to admiration in his tone, “These beasts only have a taste for humans, and they prefer to attack when a person is at their most vulnerable.”

Woodrow's voice drops to a whisper as he leans forward, “See, it will wait for its prey to fall asleep and then creep in, flowing without a sound over the floor and up onto the bed. Its thin form helps it distribute its weight and allows it to feel almost weightless as it covers the victim from head to toe. By that point, the person is seconds away from death as the lethifold contracts and wraps itself around them, blocking the airwaves and limiting movement it kills within minutes and then starts to feast. It devours all, clothing, hair, bone and then slips off just a little thicker than before leaving no trace that it was ever there.”

Harry shifts back in his seat as the image drifts closer, the edge of its folds sliding over the desk before it turns away, disappearing as the spell that formed it is released. Professor Woodrow tucks his wand back into his pocket and then begins to click the knuckles of his hands as he smiles at the worried faces before him.

“On the plus side they don’t like the cold, so the chances of you ever coming across one in England are just shy of zero, and I say that only because you can never know anything for sure. It’s also a bit of luck that everyone in this room knows how to cast a Patronus.” His eyes roam over the class until Harry sees them stop on Malfoy, “Almost everyone, so I won’t be bothering to teach it this year. However, my door is always open for anyone who might be interested in learning more.”

Harry keeps his eyes on Malfoy and sees the way he ducks his head as his mouth presses into a thin line. He remembers how wishful Malfoy had sounded in the library as he spoke of the effects a Patronus has, but he hadn’t put that together with a desire to cast one or even realised that Malfoy couldn’t already do so.

The books say that it’s a hard spell to master with many witches and wizards never managing to perform it successfully. Harry had refused to believe that and had beaten the odds teaching the charm to almost everyone in Dumbledore’s Army, except Dennis who was only a second year and the youngest in the class which meant he struggled to hold the necessary focus.

When Malfoy looks up, Harry realises he’s been staring and not paying attention to the lesson, but he can’t bring himself to look away as Malfoy smirks and pulls out a lolly. Harry smiles back at him for being bold enough to eat in class and hopes he’ll take Professor Woodrow up on his offer. Harry would be happy to teach it to Malfoy himself, but he’s worried how it would come across if he made the offer. Instead, he nods at Malfoy before he returns to taking notes as Professor Woodrow continues to tell them in detail about the lethifold.

“Very clever creatures really, covering up the threat they pose by looking like something else. A trick that people don’t realise they have fallen for until it’s too late.”

Harry frowns as Professor Woodrow words settle in his head and he turns them over.

_Covering up_, that phase, in particular, won’t leave Harry alone and he concentrates harder to work out why. His mind drifts, jumping from one thing to the next in a pattern most wouldn’t be able to follow.

_ Cover up_

_Disguise _

_Trick_

His mind repeats on a loop. The ghost had covered his shadow using it as a disguise, the same as with the armour. It had hidden what it really was inside something else, and both of those had been a trick to catch him unaware and unprepared, no different than the lethifold and its prey. Was he being haunted or hunted by this ghostly shadow or was there more to it than that?

What if it wasn’t a ghost?

What if that was just a disguise, a cover for what was really behind the attacks?

A tool being used to achieve a goal.

This wasn’t the first time Harry had encountered ghosts being used to hide the truth, the shrieking shack had become famous for its ghosts. Of course, he knows that there were never any ghosts there, just Remus transforming into a werewolf but to everyone else, it was full of violent sprites, and they dared not go near it even after years of silence.

Harry’s mind jumps then to the footsteps he heard, not only in the library but in the hallway earlier. He hadn’t given them much thought at the time, hadn’t considered their importance, but what if they aren’t dealing with a creature or ghost but a person.

Now the idea is in his head Harry can’t get it back out perhaps because the concept of a person is less terrifying than some sort of nightmarish ghoul. The moment the class finishes and with Harry having only taken half a page of notes, he turns to his friends with a wide smile.

“I’ve thought of something,” he says and earns puzzled looks from both Ron and Hermione. “Come on, I’ll tell you about it as we head to Herbology.”

He shoves his stuff into his bag quickly and practically pulls his friends from the room, noticing vaguely that Malfoy is deep in a conversation with Professor Woodrow that Harry hopes is about learning the Patronus charm.

As they make their way over the damp ground towards the greenhouses, Harry explains his reasons for thinking that someone might be behind his haunting.

“But Myrtle said she felt it and that it was like Peeves,” Ron argues back, before muttering a curse at the mud covering his shoes and making the path slippery.

“That’s true; however, Harry definitely heard footsteps, so there was someone else in the library and the hallway. It’s a bit too much of a consequence that both times the person choose to remain hidden.”

“It could have been two different people, one who froze in the library and another that ran at feeling Harry’s ghost,” Ron suggests, but Harry shakes his head.

“I don’t think so. The only people who have felt the ghost that I know of are Myrtle and me, so why would it affect two random people who happened to be in the wrong place when it attacked.”

“You did say the footsteps arrived before the ghost did. If it is a spell or creature that they are controlling, then it makes sense that they didn’t show themselves. Think about it, any normal person that was nearby would have gone to investigate the light that appeared like I did, and then the second time Harry heard them running away. If they had seen what happened then they would have rushed to help or at least check for injuries before going to fetch someone. The very fact that no one has asked Harry about the incident proves they haven’t told a teacher after witnessing a student almost be killed in the hallway.”

Harry frowns at Hermione’s reasoning and struggles to see any fault in it, after all, he couldn’t imagine running away when someone might need help.

“Great so there is someone out there who wants me dead again,” Harry bites out, his tone matching the dark mood he’s experiencing as the news sinks in.

“It’s your own fault for being so popular mate. People hear about some big bad Dark Lord slayer and see it as a challenge,” Ron teases with a wink.

“Big and bad, I think you’ve got me confused with someone else,” Harry says back as he rolls his eyes.

“It’s certainly something to consider, my research so far has been pointing to the possibility of a vengeful sprite. There are reports of such things all over the world from different periods and none of them agrees on what this type of ghost can do. The Roman’s called them Lemures and blamed an improper burial as a reason for their restless wandering of the world. In ancient Greek, they were sometimes called Vrykolakas and believed to be similar to vampire thirsty for blood and able to turn to mist. Similar to the Strigoi of Romanian which inspired Bram Stoker's novel Dracula and linked with Moroi, which are known to rise from the grave to draw energy from the living. In Japan there are ones called Onryo, most often women, they usually have a physical rather than spectral form, just like poltergeist. Each of these has aspects of what you have experienced, but I haven’t been able to narrow it down to one type, and that could very well be because we aren’t dealing with a vengeful sprite but someone pretending to be one.”

“Wow, that’s some serious research you’ve done. So you really think it’s a person and not a vengeful sprite?” Harry asks since if anyone would know it would be Hermione.

“I’m not sure, some of the things you’ve described and the information we’ve got from Myrtle and the house elves certain point more towards a ghost but I haven’t looked more into the possibility of a person yet. Until I have, I can’t give you a definite answer.”

“Well if anyone can work this out I know you can do it, Mione,” Ron says as he wraps his arm around her waist and draws Hermione closer to him. The pair paused to gaze at each other lovingly, and Harry chuckles at how love-struck they are before glancing over a Malfoy who is walking behind them towards class.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to dedicate this chapter and in particular the unscripted drarry moment that occurs in it to lydialovesdreaming. Your continual support and comments throughout this story have keep me not only motivated but smiling. You are a absolute sweetheart and I adore you.
> 
> The prompt word for today is: Paper

In Herbology, Harry finds it hard to concentrate as he considers possible suspects for his ghost, something made difficult when all his enemies are either dead or locked up in Azkaban. Before this year he would have automatically placed the blame on Malfoy, but after their recent talks he can’t bring himself to consider him responsible. He doesn’t want to believe that Malfoy is the bad guy, that his friendliness is all an act.

Looking across the large centre bench, he watches Malfoy smile as he uses a severing hex on the venomous tentacula vines that had been creeping up on him. The plant is a menace attempting to eat at least one student during class.

As Malfoy turns away, he catches Harry’s eye and blows on the end of his wand like an old fashion gunslinger before he spins it and tucks it back into his pocket. Harry snorts out a laugh at the dramatic flair, but he's happy to see a bit more life in Malfoy after noticing now faded he had been at the start of the school year.

“Potter, pass me some more dragon dung, will you?”

“You could try saying please Malfoy,” Harry says back even as he reaches for the bag.

“I could, but the shock might kill you and then who will pass me the dung?” Malfoy says with a devilish smirk. Harry laughs again and stands up to pass the bag, realising that his arms are just a touch too short.

“I’ve got it, here you go Malfoy,” Ron says taking the bag, his slightly longer arms giving him the reach to pass the bag over.

Malfoy looks a little shocked for a moment before he nods his head and gives Ron a shy smile, “Thank you, Weasley.”

Ron simply shrugs in reply as he takes his seat before turning to Harry, who is looking at him over the rim of his glasses. Ron’s cheeks flush pink as he frowns back at him before snatching up his plant pot and shoving some dung into it.

“What? You wanted me to play nice with him, so stop staring at me like I've grown a second head.”

“Just thought it would take you longer to come around, mate.”

“Yeah well, you clearly like the guy, so I don’t have much choice do I.” This time Harry’s the one who blushes as his eyes dart to Malfoy, but he’s busy re-potting his knotgrass and hopefully hadn’t heard Ron.

“Will you stop saying it like that, both you and Hermione are driving me nuts,” Harry hisses under his breath as he stabs his trowel a bit too violently into the compost he’s packing in around his own knotgrass plant.

“Whatever you say, Harry. Maybe if you didn’t turn red every time he looks at you we’d stop.”

Harry shoots a dark look at Ron before huffing out a breath and deciding just to ignore his friend. He is wrong about Harry’s feelings for Malfoy, Hermione is too, and while that might be a rare occurrence it does happen. He and Malfoy are classmates who get along a bit better than before, and both enjoy sweets, that’s all.

The next time Harry’s eyes slip over to Malfoy, it’s to find him concentrating on his work as he nibbles on his bottom lip, turning it red and shiny and tempting…

_I’m so screwed_; Harry thinks as his heart flips in his chest before he drops his head down onto the bench.

In an attempt to not think about Malfoy or his sodding mouth, Harry returns to pondering his ghost problem. He still doesn't have any suspects, but he does come up with a way of keeping an eye on who’s around him. When class finishes, Harry tells his friends that he needs to go to the dorms and unwilling to leave him alone again; they all climb up the multitude of staircases to the seventh floor.

Entering his room, Harry heads straight to his trunk and hidden in his invisibly cloak with the first lolly he got from Malfoy and a couple of lemon drops is the marauders’ map. He unfolds the creased paper which softened by time feels more like fabric than paper and opens it up. Out of curiosity, Harry mutters the familiar words to awaken the map and taps it with his wand. His eyes scan the map, and he finds Malfoy's dot, watching it move to the Slytherin table in the great hall as he passes Nearly Headless Nick.

He had forgotten that ghosts show up on the map, and quickly he checks for Peeves, focusing on the areas he can usually be found hanging around, such as near Filch’s office or bouncing around the classrooms leaving rude drawings on the chalkboards. He must have checked the map over a dozen times, but he can’t find Peeves anywhere, and while he may be outside the castle walls Harry thinks it unlikely. Hermione had said Peeves is tied to Hogwarts and she meant it, he can’t move far from the source of his existence.

However, he doesn’t let it bother him too much since he also doesn’t show on the map due to the dormitory being a recent addition to the castle and therefore it isn’t plotted on the map. He should ask Hermione if there is a way to update it to show not only the dorms but also the chamber of secrets and the other areas they have discovered during their years here. After a thinking about it for a few minutes he decides it's something to consider another time, for now, all Harry wants is a way to check for anyone that shouldn’t be in Hogwarts or anyone that’s not where they should be. By keeping the map on him the next time he feels the ghost, he can check to see who is around him and not even an invisibility cloak will hide their identity.

With a sigh, Harry taps the map with his wand and whispers mischief managed before folding it and putting it in his pocket deciding he’ll worry about ghosts, Peeves and updating the map later. At the moment he wants to get to dinner since he missed lunch and his stomach aches from hunger, letting out a loud growl to hurry him along.

*************************************

After Dinner, they all end up once again in the library; books piled high around them as they research dark magic. As Harry’s eyes look over his friends, he can’t help smiling at how familiar the sight is as his mind drifts to a memory of first year. The three of them leaning over textbooks that were almost bigger than them as they searched for Nicolas Flamel to solve the mystery of the philosopher’s stone.

It had been their first adventure together, and a small part of him is enjoying them having another one. He may have wanted an ordinary year at Hogwarts, but considering the way his life has been so far, he might have been asking too much. His life has always been unpredictable, and trouble follows him around like a stray he had fed once and now won’t leave him alone.

Distractedly he rubs at his eyes and once more tries to pay attention to the book before him, but the tiny print is blurry, and he can’t focus. His hand drops off the table, and he can feel the map in his pocket. Without really thinking about it he pulls the map out, whispers the words to activate it and begins looking for Malfoy's dot, a tiny bit of guilt worming its way into his stomach as he does so. After convincing himself, he is not obsessed, and this is nothing like sixth year he’s a little surprised to find Malfoy closer than he expected. His dot is just a few rows away from where Harry’s sat, and a smile spreads over his face.

“I’m just going to grab another book,” Harry says as he climbs to his feet and heads directly for Malfoy taking the packet of sweets out to hand over.

As he rounds the corner, mouth open to call out a greeting, he stops in his tracks. Malfoy’s turned away from him; his hand replacing books even as they grab new ones and tucks them out of sight into his bag. Harry however still manages to read a few titles. Words like dark, curse and enemies jump out to fill his vision so that when Malfoy turns and notices him Harry only just catches a flash of fear on his face before he forces a smile.

“Potter, I didn’t see you there.”

“And I didn’t expect to find you here,” Harry lies as he drops the sweets back into his pocket and smiles back even as he feels a stab of pain in his chest.

“Is that for professor Woodrow’s essay?” Harry asks pointing to the book in Malfoy's hand.

Malfoy looks down and shakes his head, “No, it’s for the thesis I have to write to get into the Healer program at St. Mungos. I’m looking for cases of extreme spell damage and then theorising on ways to lessen the effects.”

“You’re going to be a Healer?”

Malfoy’s cheeks flush as he looks away, his fingers tightening on the book he has pressed to his chest.

“Well, that remains to be seen. I’m…” Malfoy stops letting out a small sigh, “I’m not confident I’ll get in.”

Harry takes a step closer, drawn in by Malfoy’s evident honesty and pulls the bag of sweets out of his pocket once more. Holding them out until Malfoy takes them harry then pats him on the shoulder.

“I’m confident you will, mostly because I know you won’t take no for an answer,” Harry jokes breaking the tense atmosphere while earning a small chuckle from Malfoy.

“That certainly is true, thank you, Potter.”

“I do have a first name that you’re welcome to use if you want that is.”

Malfoy’s smile grows a little bigger at that, and a dimple appears in his cheek, “Alright Harry, then I insist you use mine too.”

“Ok, Draco. Now I'm not sure if I can be any help with your thesis, but I bet Hermione can.”

Malfoy’s smile disappears as he lets out a hum in response.

“Or not. Just a suggestion,” Harry quickly adds at Draco sudden shift in mood.

“One I’ll consider, but for now I have a lot of reading to do. Thanks again for the treat Harry,” Malfoy says as he pockets the packet of Halloween candy and walks past Harry to the exit.

When Harry returns to Ron and Hermione, they are both grinning at him smugly.

“Seems you forgot your book, was it by chance ‘Malfoy, a tale of Draco’ because I'm sure that’s what you were just checking out,” Hermione teases.

Harry lets out a groan as he buries his burning cheeks in his hands, “Shut up.”

“Look, Mione, our little Harry is all embarrassed over a boy.”

“I hate you both,” Harry mutters as he glares at his friends as they laugh at him in unapologetic glee.

“Consider it payback for winding us up,” Hermione suggests, but Harry only crosses his arms and ignores her. When he winds them up its fun but having the tables turned on him it a nightmare especially since he could do with some support because he doesn’t know what's going on between him and Draco. Just thinking his name makes Harry’s heart skip and tugs the corner of his mouth up into a smile.

“Come on enough daydreaming mate, we’ve got a mystery to solve,” Ron says as he nudges Harry’s book.

“Yeah, alright,” Harry grumbles as he starts reading once again.

The hours pass in a blur of homework and looking up abstract spells before Hermione releases them to go to bed. If not for his aching back from leaning over books Harry would have jumped for joy, as it is he can just manage a sigh of relief as he stretches his arms above his head.

Once he’s helped put back the books and they are heading up to the Common room harry pulls the map out once more. There aren’t many people still in the hallways this late, filch is wandering the fifth floor, and Headmistress McGonagall is sitting in her office and Malfoy is heading down the second-floor corridor.

Harry’s steps slow as he watches Draco's dot moving closer to the stairs and wonders why he's in that area at this time. His eyes skip over Myrtle in her bathroom to land on Professor Woodrow in his office and realisation dawns on Harry. Draco must have been talking to the Professor about learning the Patronus charm; perhaps he has just finished his first lesson. Harry's desperate to know how it went and what Draco's Patronus is, but he can't ask now, and he’s not sure if he can ask something so personal the next time they bump into each other either.

Folding the map back up Harry tucks it away, he’s too tired to think about anything right now. Tomorrow he’d deal with his very apparent crush on Draco but tonight he just wants to sleep, and after changing his clothes he falls into bed and straight into a nightmare.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The prompt word for today is: Mist

Harry tugs his blanket tighter around himself as he walks over to the dormitory window. He should have known that his nightmares wouldn't be held off for long. Outside the grounds are hidden under a blanket of early morning mist, the wisps of it creeping along the floor looking like a procession of ghosts.

Harry is beginning to get bored of thinking about ghosts and spooks. The possibility of his haunting being the work of a person is making his temper rise. Why can’t people just leave him the hell alone, he’s had enough of fighting? He hates that he’s spent so much time being afraid, he hates the sound of blood in his ears, the cold sweat that covers his skin and the tremors that rack his body as adrenalin courses through him. He won the war, he deserves a bloody break, and this thing…person is trying to take that from him.

Well, he’s not putting up with it anymore. He has a way to fight back now, and he won’t be treated like prey in his home. It might even be time for him to become the hunter, rather than waiting around for the ghost’s next attack he should be out there tracking it down. As his fury grows, Harry turns roughly away from the window and snatches up some clothes from the floor. A quick check of the time shows that he has at least a few hours before anyone will be up, meaning he can explore the castle in peace and be back before his friends notice he’s gone. Regardless of what they say he can’t help feeling a little guilty that they have been dragged into this mess with him, they deserve a break too.

Wand in hand he heads out into the school his eyes checking every corner and ears strained for even a whisper of sound. He makes sure to keep his steps slow, rolling from heel to toes to minimise the noise, his shoulders hunched as he crouches in preparation to dodge another sword or something else.

Even at his unhurried pace, it doesn’t take Harry long to search most of the corridors. Arriving on the second floor, he remembers, seeing Malfoy on the map here visiting Professor Woodrow and debates copying his example and asking for help from their Professor. He would probably know all sorts of things that can help him find the person responsible, but he’d also give Harry an earful and drag him to the Headmistress for waiting this long. Something that Harry is desperate to avoid at all costs. Hermione has been growing more insistent that Harry speaks to McGonagall, but so far he’s managed to distract her with theories and when that fails openly begging her to just let them handle it without getting anyone else involved. He knows that it won’t work for much longer and it only pushes him to solve this problem sooner rather than later.

Tugging out the map, he checks it over and sees Professor Woodrow in his room and probably asleep but Myrtle is moving around the bathroom a few doors down. Harry remembers that he said that he would visit her so he puts the map away and heads towards her, maybe she’ll have something new to tell him.

She must have heard him coming because she’s floating on the other side of the door as he pushes it open, but her smile dims when she sees him.

“Hey Myrtle, um how are you?”

Despite his need for answers, Harry knows that it would be rude to jump straight to questions about ghosts or the person behind the ghost.

“Better now you’re here, Harry.”

“That’s nice,” Harry forces out through an uncomfortable smile, as he twists into the room and puts some distance between them. Myrtle giggles and inches closer, batting her eyelashes and flipping one of her ratty pigtails. Her terrible attempt at flirting puts an end to Harry being polite, and he starts talking.

“So have you felt the bad feeling again? Do you know what it is?”

Myrtle pouts and crosses her arms in a huff, “I don’t want to talk about that nasty thing or Peeves disappearing.”

“I thought Peeves was found, the house elves saw him?”

“A few people have seen him, for a little while. They say he looks pale, like a real ghost and his mouth is open, but he never speaks, and then he’s gone again.”

Harry swallows down the nerves churning in his stomach and tries to smile at myrtle.

“You’re trying to trick me, aren’t you or Peeves is playing a prank on everyone.”

Harry can hear the strain in his voice as he makes himself laugh.

“It's not a prank I know about, and it’s got the other ghosts nervous.”

It isn’t what Harry wants to hear because if this thing can do that to a poltergeist, then what can it do to a person.

“I need to know what you know about Peeves and the bad feeling before it hurts someone.”

“I don’t know anything else about Peeves, and I don’t see how a person getting hurt has anything to do with me.”

“Please,” Harry groans seconds away from giving up on talking to the stuck up girl and storming out of the bathroom.

“Well, I guess since you said please. I can tell you that it’s been moving around the castle more, I can feel it when it passes by, but it stays away from here usually. I still don’t know what it is.”

“I think it’s a person, someone using magic to pretend to be a ghost or something like a ghost.”

Myrtle shakes her head, “You can’t pretend to be a ghost.”

“With the right spells maybe someone could and you even said yourself that it wasn’t a ghost.”

“I said it wasn’t a normal ghost, but I know it’s not a person.”

“How do you know that when you just said you don’t know what it is?” Harry demands to know as he loses his temper.

“I can’t tell you that it’s a secret.”

Drawing his wand, Harry points it at Myrtle and sees her eyes grow wide in terror which confuses him for a moment. As far as he knows ghosts are near impossible to harm in any way and he certainly doesn’t know any spells that are capable of doing that.

“It’s here,” Myrtle whispers before diving into the floor, her body passing through the stone and leaving Harry alone as his body begins to shake. Quickly he pulls back out the map and checks it over, but nothing is on this floor besides Woodrow still sleeping in his room further down the hall. Myrtle has disappeared off the map entirely and Harry reckons she’s hiding in the basilisk’s chamber under them.

With a curse, he shoves the map back into his pocket and tries to find a happy memory. He needs to protect himself before the ghost has a chance to attack and catch him unaware again. Even with warning he isn’t quick enough as a shadow flows over the floor aiming straight for him. Jumping back the edge of a sink hits him in the lower back, jarring him and throbbing with a dull ache. The shadow keeps coming spreading around him to prevent his escape and then once it reaches his feet, it crawls upwards.

Harry flinches and lets out a gasp at the sensation of coldness so icy that it burns and forgetting about casting his Patronus he kicks out with his leg to dislodge the shadow. However, the shadow clings on and climbs just a little bit higher while Harry is frozen in place by fear.

Screwing his eyes shut, Harry struggles to keep breathing regularly when his heart is beating at a worryingly fast pace and also concentrate on finding a happy memory. For a second he remembers the burrow and Molly’s soft smile as she serves up plates of lovely food and then his mind shifts pulling up the memory of being in the graveyard. It’s so clear that Harry can feel the hands holding him in place as Voldemort rises before him with a cruel laugh that causes his blood to run cold.

Opening his eyes Harry blinks away the memory and then tries again to find a new one, a better one. It’s becoming harder as the shadow moves higher and panic sets in, his body moving into fight or flight but neither of those will work. He needs a memory, a happy memory, and he needs it quickly.

A laugh fills Harry’s head followed by a face, the cheeks tinged pink and a smirk turning to a smile, and as Harry remembers Malfoy in the library yesterday he casts his Patronus. It roars out of his wand with its head thrashing to fight off the darkness. The shadow shrinks back avoiding the hooves that are trying to stomp on it, but it doesn’t run this time. Harry watches in transfixed horror as the shadow lunges for his Patronus and its form becomes hazy for a moment.

Closing his eyes Harry focuses more on the memory, the feeling that had filled his chest as he had reached out and touched Malfoy’s shoulder and their eyes met, something important passing between them at that moment.

When he risks looking again, his Patronus is shining brighter, forcing the shadow back until it finally turns and slithers out under the door. A long exhale leaves Harry as he lets out the breath he was holding and leans back on the sinks behind him as his legs wobble under him from the lingering stress. His Patronus slowly steps towards him, its snout coming to a stop just before his face and Harry reaches out and pets it feeling a tiny bit better at the safety that radiates around the stag.

“Thank you,” he says. He doesn’t care if it’s stupid to thank a piece of magic, in particular, his own but the words needed to be said.

It seems that hunting for the ghost was a terrible idea and not one he plans to ever repeat even if he does know more than he did before. With a frown, Harry pulls out the map again and checks it once more, but there is still no one around him and nothing to show the shadow’s location. Myrtle said it wasn’t a person, but Harry is also sure it’s not a ghost because both those things will show up on his map. He can also rule out that someone could be hiding in the chamber beneath his feet; only someone who can speak parseltongue could get down there. Therefore either it is a person, and they don’t have to be nearby to control the shadow, or they are dealing with something else.

He needs to talk to Hermione about this; she’ll know what to do next and hopefully a plan to stop it. As Harry thinks about this recent encounter he has to admit that he’s less confident than he was earlier about beating this thing. It had touched him, the shadow had managed to physically touch him and cause him pain. Leaning down Harry tugs up his pant leg, checking the skin he finds it unblemished if still a little cold. It had been a close call tonight, and he has nothing to show for it, and now the fear is slowly fading he begins to question if it had really touched him.

The elves had said it is getting bigger and stronger, so perhaps he just had a stronger reaction to it being close to him. It’s not a pleasant thought since the increase in fear affects his ability to conjure his Patronus making it more difficult. So far it’s the only protection he has besides an unpredictable orb of blue light that he doesn’t feel comfortable trusting with his life.

It had just been so quick; he had barely had time to do anything before the ghost struck. As Hermione said, it’s getting smarter, changing its behaviour and each time getting a little closer to Harry. A shudder goes down Harry’s spine as he considers that next time might be his last. With that dreary thought in his head Harry heads back upstairs to his room, his stag glowing softly beside him and offering a little warmth in the chilly hallways. The second he reaches his dorm, he nudges Ron awake with a pained smile.

“Hey, I gotta tell you something.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tomorrows chapter gets a little bit angsty so just a heads up.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The prompt word for today is: Plea

It takes Harry forty minutes to tell Ron about his early morning adventure, and the only complaint his friend has is that Harry left him behind.

“If we’re going to solve this together then maybe next time you want to go off alone and possible die you take back up. I’m beginning to think it’s a good idea that you don’t want to be an Auror cause honestly mate I don’t think you’d survive a week.”

“I’d love to point out the fact that I’ve survived this long, but we both know that it’s only out of luck,” Harry admits. He picks at a loose thread on Ron’s blanket and listens to the soft snores coming from the others sleeping around them and wonders if that is why Ron had been surprisingly calm about Harry’s latest stunt.

If Harry had been thinking clearly then he would have taken Ron and Hermione with him, but the return of his nightmares had put him in a foul mood, and he let his anger get the better of him. He’s still tired of the complications in his life, but he’s not going to fix this one on his own, and if he keeps making bad decisions Hermione is going to demand they go to McGonagall.

Once more he considers the wisdom of getting help before stubbornly pushing the idea away, they can do this and no one else needs to know about it. He doesn’t need or want any more publicity, or people sticking their noses into his business.

Bracing his hands on his knees, he pushes himself to his feet with a soft groan, he still needs to tell Hermione and stalling won’t save him from the lecture she’ll give him. Heading into the Common room he summons his Patronus and sends it up to the girl’s dorms to get the final member of their group.

When she comes down ten minutes later, Harry explains once again what happened this morning. It takes him twice as long to tell her compared to Ron because she stops him several times to ask questions or shake her head while muttering idiot.

“I wish Myrtle had been a bit more helpful or had given you a reason why she believes it’s not a person.”

“I could try talking to her again but even without the shadow turning up that place gives me the creeps,” Harry replies, expecting Hermione to demand that they go straight there and skip breakfast.

“I’m not sure there is any point, she is hardly a reliable source. What we should be doing is going to the Headmistress and handing the problem over to her.”

“What? Why?”

The look Hermione gives him and her tone of voice make it clear that she is losing her patience with him, “Because you almost died yesterday Harry and this morning your Patronus only just managed to protect you from whatever this thing is.”

“My Patronus did protect me; there wasn’t anything wrong with the spell except my lack of focus. I’ll be more prepared next time and…”

“Next time you could be killed!”

Harry looks away from Hermione as the sharpness of her words fails to hide the croak of tears in her throat. “You promised we would talk to the teachers if things got worse, I didn’t push the issue yesterday but the more I think about it….you got lucky, and you can’t rely on getting lucky again, I won’t risk it and you shouldn’t be risking your life either. You said you wanted a normal year and a future so why won’t you let someone else deal with this?”

Harry slowly raises his eyes, glancing first at Hermione whose eyes are swimming with tears and then Ron who looks away unwilling to meet his eyes.

“Because I don't want to leave. This thing is targeting me, no one else and I’m scared if we tell the teachers they’ll send me away or worse they’ll assign me a guard. I don’t want to be responsible for someone else getting hurt because they were trying to protect me. I don’t even like the fact you two have gotten involved and are at risk because of me again.”

“That’s really dumb mate,” Ron says, shaking his head. “I get not wanting to get someone hurt, but there is nothing you can do to stop us helping you. We’d be crushed if something happened to you and we didn’t do anything to prevent it. So whether you like it or not, me and Mione are going to protect you just like you’d protect us but that works loads better if we stick together.”

Hermione smiles as she leans into Ron's side before sniffing back more tears. “

You’ve made your point, we are better together. When did you start talking sense?”

“I need to be smart to keep up with my girl,” Ron teases as he wraps an arm around Hermione and squeezes her closer. Harry smiles at them both before his expression drops, and he lets out a sigh.

“I still don’t want to tell the Headmistress. What if it affects my chances of becoming a Professor?”

“I don’t think it will Harry and this problem will get fixed a lot faster if we have some extra help.”

“Just…a tiny bit more time. I won’t go anywhere on my own, and I’ll keep the map and my wand on me at all times….”

“Harry,” Hermione begins cutting him off. Her voice is weary and holding just a trace of desperation to match his own.

“Please Hermione.”

Hermione crosses her arms and looks up at Ron, clearly asking him to help her convince Harry to listen to reason. Put on the spot, Ron rubs at the back of his neck and lets out a groan before fixing his eyes on Harry and pointing a finger at him.

“One more chance for us to fix this. From now on you will be with either Hermione or me at all times so no sneaking off to flirt with Malfoy or going ghost hunting in the middle of the night, and if something bad happens again we’re going to McGonagall no matter how much to beg us not to, deal.”

With a nod, Harry shoves out his hand, accepting Ron’s bargain and more determined than ever to sort everything out so he can get on with his studies.

******************************

It’s been two days since Harry has felt the ghost and he isn’t sure whether to be pleased or worried by its silence. The way he sees it either the ghost is gone, or it’s planning something, and it’s that second option that has him strung tight and on edge. As much as he wants to believe that the ghost has simply vanished he’s too much of a realist to accept something so hopeful and unlikely.

He shifts in his seat; nervously chewing on his thumbnail as Professor Webb talks about how they will be brewing pepper up potions for Madam Pomfrey in class today as cold season is fast approaching. He needs to concentrate on the lesson but his eyes keep scanning the room on the lookout for danger while his expression remains pinched with worry.

He manages to catch Draco’s eye in the row behind him and quickly forces a smile to his face. Draco returns it, but the concern in his eyes suggests that he’s noticed Harry’s uneasy mood. Leaning over his desk Draco whispers to Harry, and the gentle tone seems to caress Harry’s skin and cause it to heat.

“Is something bothering you, Harry?”

“No, not really, just…potions have always been a struggle for me,” Harry whispers back.

“Except Sixth year, you managed to outdo me then,” Draco points out his lip curling into a small pout. Harry quickly looks away swallowing in the hopes of moistening his dry mouth. Draco is driving him insane, and Harry doesn’t even think he realises it, because he’s the one with a crush while Draco views him as a friend at best.

“I had some help that year, a book full of tips and tricks but it got destroyed last year.”

He doesn’t tell Draco that it burned up in the room where Draco almost suffered the same fate. His blush from a moment ago disappears to leave him shaken as Harry remembers calling out Draco’s name as he reached for him. _What if I hadn’t gone back,_ he thinks as he looks at Draco taking in his sharp grey eyes and the lock of hair that falls over one eye refusing to remain in place without the gel Draco used to use.

All the moments they’ve had this year, the traded smiles and short conversations would never have been, he’d never have heard Draco laugh at his comment in Divination, would never have seen him blush as Harry teased, never would have felt…

“Harry?”

Draco’s voice pulls Harry back to the present, and he firmly ignores the dark path his mind had been heading. He did go back, and Draco’s here, so there is no point upsetting himself with what if’s.

“Sorry spaced out for a second, anyway what page are the instructions on for pepper up?”

Draco raises an eyebrow at Harry but doesn’t prod him for an explanation, “Page 240.”

“Thanks,” Harry says before he turns away and flips through his potion book to the correct page. He can still feel Draco’s eyes on him, and it makes the hairs on his neck stand up on end. Reaching back he rubs his hand over the area as he reads the first line of instructions before preparing his cauldron and lighting the fire beneath it.

Leaving it to begin to heat up, he wanders over to the front of the class to collect the ingredients that Professor Webb has laid out for each of them.

“Now remember class, these potions will be used by the school, so I expect excellent results,” Professor Webb says cheerily. The happy attitude at odds with her appearance, and even after over a month to get used to it Harry it still thrown by it. Professor Webb is probably close to eighty, but surprisingly tall for a woman and whip-thin yet she never stops smiling and favours wearing honey-toned robes over the strict black that Snape always wore.

Ingredients in hand Harry offers her a nod before returning to his station and checks once more how to cut the first ingredient before he even picks up his knife. While this lesson won’t be going towards his N.E.W.T scores, Harry wants to brew the potion correctly since he’ll likely be one of the students who need one of them once winter arrives.

He inches a tiny bit closer to his cauldron as he slices, the warmth removing the chill of being in the dungeons from his hands. He’s not sure if it’s because he’s concentrating on his task or the fact that he is purposely ignoring the signs, but slowly Harry notices that his skin is growing colder. He shudders even as he leans over the cauldron and his glasses steam up. Removing them he wipes them clear with the corner of his jumper and putting them on he begins searching the room again. He peers into the corners and up at the ceiling, before ducking to check under the table but he can’t find a trace of the shadow that has been attacking him. Regardless the feeling grows as the cold digs deeper into him, and his heart rate rises from a steady thump to a rapid tapping in his chest.

“Have you lost something?”

“What? No, I mean yes, but I've found it, thanks,” Harry says quickly hardly glancing at Draco. He doesn’t want him to see how scared he is, and he can’t afford to be distracted when the ghost is so close.

He takes a breath in through his nose and holds it for a few seconds before releasing it in a vain attempt to calm down. If anything his panic only grows stronger, as a wave of fear crashes over him and his knees wobble.

With his hands shaking, he draws his wand and holds it out of sight under the table, confused and terrified that no one else seems to have noticed the sensation of wrongness that surrounds them. It’s so thick that Harry finds it suffocating and he has trouble getting oxygen into his lungs.

He doesn’t know what to do; it’s hard to think when his head is full of nightmare images of shadows rising up from the cracks in the floor or dripping down from the ceiling to cover everyone in painful coldness. That icy chill is already sinking into his bones and holding him in place. He glances to the side and tries to catch Hermione’s eye, but she’s explaining something to Ron and Harry can’t speak. Terror has robbed his voice as it squeezes his throat and unable to cope with the frightening atmosphere he pushes away from his workbench.

He doesn’t pay attention to anything except putting one foot before the other as he rushes from the classroom. The calls for him to stop are faint whispers to Harry as the thoughts in his head scream louder, saying the same thing over and over.

_ Run._

He just needs to get away, a little bit of distance so he can clear his head and then he can cast his Patronus. His feet skid as he races around a corner and he’s forced to throw out a hand, but his knees are still jarred by slamming into the floor.

He looks back as he scrabbles up; the darkness behind him is menacing and fills the space from wall to wall. It’s bigger and stronger than Harry, and he can’t run fast enough to escape. It takes his vision becoming blurry for Harry to realise that he’s crying. The tears roll down his cheek to drip off his chin as he whimpers while a thousand childhood fears consume his brain.

_Aunt Marge's dog, snapping and snarling at Harry as he clings to the tree tighter, his eye glued open at the demon below him as Dudley laughs._

_ A flash of lighting under the door of his cupboard is followed by a deep rumble of thunder and Harry buries his head deeper into the thin blanket he has and wishes that his door wasn’t locked._

_A figure hidden by a black hood bends over a unicorn, it’s silver bloodied mouth opening in a scream as it lunges for Harry’s face with clawed hands._

Harry shakes away the memories, his lungs aching as he sucks in another breath and runs up a flight of stairs.

A happy memory, something good, he needs to think of something good.

Molly’s arms wrapping around him as he stood on the platform about to come back to Hogwarts. Arthur’s hand placed on his and Ron’s shoulders as he said how proud he is of both his boys. Hermione, Ron and him falling into a pile of tangled limbs as they laughed so hard they couldn’t breathe as they spent their first night back telling jokes because Harry was worried he would have nightmares.

He holds the memory in the front of his mind and casts, shouting the words, and suddenly there is a stag running beside him, its hooves silent compared to his noisy steps. He aims his wand back sending his Patronus at the shadow as he spins to face it.

The happiness of his memory warming his heart and his Patronus shines with the strength of it as it charges the ghost. Its antlers tangle in the darkness, tearing at it but the shadow moves like smoke twisting back and then slowly it consumes his Patronus. Covering the light, it swallows the stag, and Harry watches the last parts of it vanish as fear takes him over again.

Weak from running he drops to his knees, the smoky shadow trailing towards him and Harry opens his mouth to scream. The shadow pounces at that moment aiming for his mouth and when Harry snaps it shut it coils over his nose. Harry drops his wand as he lifts his hands to cover the bottom half of his face, eyes squeezed shut to as his lungs start to burn for air. The coldness of the shadow freezes his hands, but Harry doesn’t move them, terrified of what it will do if it gets into him.

Blinking his eyes more tears fall to soak his hands, making them colder and everything is blurry, and his chest hurts, burns for life. He knows that soon he’ll blackout and then it’s over, so he silently pleas for someone to save him.

_ Please, I don’t want to die again._

_ Please, I’m scared, please._

_ Please…_

Everything hurts, and he can’t see clearly, his vision beginning to tunnel before he is blinded by light.

Blue light surrounds him, his skin warming as it pulses and drives the shadow back. Harry frowns and narrows his eyes, and at the end of the corridor he can see someone standing there. A dark outline and the glowing tip of a wand.

_Thank you_, Harry thinks as he blacks out and his hands fall away, allowing his body to finally take a breath.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The prompt word for today is: Icy

The first thing Harry feels is coldness, and instinctively he tries to fight it off by wrapping his arms around himself. His fingers finding soft fabric and he curls his hand around it and tugs it tighter around him, as he opens his eyes. Everything is blurry, and it takes him a second to realise he’s not wearing his glasses. In the next second he realises he is lying on a bed and by the smell Harry can make an educated guess that he’s in the hospital wing.

“Oh, thank god, you’re awake.”

Harry blinks and can just make out a blur that he’s sure is Hermione from the voice, and he reaches out a hand to search for his glasses. He feels them being placed into his hand and when he puts them on the world comes into focus.

The white bedding around him is lit by the soft light of the torch mounted above his bed. While a curtain separates him from the rest of the room and offers a small amount of privacy.

His eyes drift to Ron and Hermione who are sat by his bed, beaming at him even as the bags under their eyes weigh down their expressions. It’s clear they haven’t been sleeping well, and the drawn paleness of their skin suggests that they have been worrying about him.

“What happened?” Harry asks his voice coming out husky, and he licks his dry lips.

“We were kinda hoping you could tell us mate?”

“what do you remember Harry?”

Harry frowns as he shifts to sit up and tries to remember what happened. They had been in potions, brewing pepper up and he’d been talking to Draco and then...

“The ghost came, I couldn’t see it, but I could feel it. I tried to get your attention, but I couldn’t make myself speak, and then the fear got stronger and stronger until I had to run.”

“Why? I don’t understand why you ran away Harry, we could have helped you,” Hermione says as she reaches out and takes his hand in hers. She rubs her thumb over the back of his hand, and the heat from her body removes the chill from his skin.

“I wasn’t thinking, I couldn’t think. I just needed to get away from it so I could clear my head and fight back,” Harry explains. Hearing it out loud, he can see the stupidity of his actions. He had deliberately separated from his friends after promising to stay close leaving himself vulnerable which is precisely what the ghost wanted him to do. At the time it was the only solution he could think of, but if he’d been a bit smarter he could have gotten Hermione and Ron's attention before the fear drove him from class.

“But it still caught you before you got the chance to cast a Patronus,” Hermione guesses and Harry shakes his head.

“I did, but the shadow swallowed it. I mean it covered it, and then the fear hit even harder, and I couldn’t hold the spell or recast. I tried to scream for help, but it lunged at me, it was in my mouth, trying to get into my nose, so I had to cover them to keep it out. I couldn’t breathe. I thought I was going to die.”

Harry stops as a shiver goes down his back, and he has to swallow before he can continue all the while holding onto Hermione's hand tightly. Looking up he can see a reflection of his fear in his friends' faces. Hermione has lifted her free hand to cover her mouth, and even Ron looks a bit green at his description of the shadow trying to get inside him.

“I was close to blacking out, I was so dizzy, and then the blue light appeared, it shielded me. Someone was there, a person cast it. Who was it?”

Hermione and Ron share a look, their confusion clear to Harry and telling him that neither of them was responsible.

“I don’t know me and Ron raced out of class after you, but it took us a bit of time to find you. No one was with you when we got there, you were just lying on the floor, and I thought..” Hermione’s words cut off as a sob escapes, and she is moving closer to wrap her arms around him. Harry hugs her back, whispering calming words into her hair as he rubs up and down her back. He can feel her tremble and the dampness on his shoulder as her tears soak through the thin fabric of his top.

“You gave us a real scare. It’s Saturday. You’ve been unconscious for two days,” Ron says, and Harry can hear that he’s close to tears too.

“Two days,” Harry repeats in shock. For him, it seemed like only a few moments had passed since he blacked out. He feels blessed that the shadow didn’t come for him while he’s been lying here helpless.

“Yeah. Oh and Malfoy visited earlier, left a lolly for you.” Ron nods to the bedside where a half-filled glass of water sits and a lollipop wrapped in plastic decorated with black cats.

His words distract Harry from thinking about the ghost for a moment. The corner of his mouth twitches as Harry looks at the sweet, a surge of happiness going through him at the knowledge that Draco cared enough about him to visit The small gesture means more to him than Draco probably knows, but Harry has come to accept that he’s quickly developing feelings for the sassy Slytherin.

“What did he do when I ran out of potions,” Harry asks shyly.

Hermione pulls back to look at him and cups his heating cheek with her hand as she smiles, “He was the first person to call out and I think he tried to follow us when we raced after you but got caught behind everyone jumping up in a panic.”

“You really stirred things up with this stunt,” Ron says before tugging nervously on his ear, “We, um, we had to tell McGonagall what’s been going on. It’s not like we could hide it after having to bring you here.”

Harry’s head drops, but he had expected Ron's news, and after the last attack he is actually relieved to be getting some help. He just hopes that the teachers will know what it is and how to stop it.

“It’s ok, we should have done it sooner, but I was stubborn, sorry, Hermione; you were right,” Harry admits with a small smile. Ron relaxes at Harry’s words, and Hermione draws back more to roll her eyes at him fondly.

“Of course, I was-.”

“I see you’re awake Mr Potter, another day and we would have been transferring you to St Mungo's. How are you feeling, any pain or tiredness?”

Harry turns to look at Madam Pomfrey as she appears from between the curtains, her wand flying over him as she casts diagnostic spells.

“My head hurts a bit, and I guess I'm still a bit tired. Drained I suppose you could call it,” Harry mutters his nose crinkling. He can almost taste the horrible potions she’s going to make him take.

“I see, then I hope you won’t give me any grief for keeping you in until I'm convinced you have fully recovered.”

“No, ma’am” Harry sulks. He hates staying in the hospital wing and would rather rest in his dorm room where he will be more comfortable.

“Good, I’ll get you some dreamless sleep to help you rest, but the Headmistress wishes to speak to you first.”

Harry nods, dreamless sleep isn’t too bad, the flavour practically tasteless besides a lingering trace of woodshavings. The sick feeling in his stomach is a reaction to having to speak to the Headmistress, and he turns pleading eyes on Hermione and Ron to stay with him, so he doesn’t have to face her alone. Unfortunately, Madam Pomfrey dashes any hope of their support with her next words.

“Time for you two to leave Mr Potter so that he can recover, but you may come back later for a visit is you desire.”

“Can’t we..” Ron's words trail off at the icy glare from Madam Pomfrey and her hand holding the curtain open for them. “Right we’ll just be off.”

“See you later, Harry,” Hermione says as she gives him another hug. Ron settles on a wave and a cheery ‘glad you’re back mate’ before they leave him to his fate and disappear with Madam Pomfrey.

A few minutes later and Madam Profrey reappears escorting McGonagall who is frowning at him. Harry ducks his head to avoid her scorn, but the discomfort of her disappointment continues to churn in his stomach.

“I’m sorry I didn’t come to you sooner, Headmistress, I..”

“Silence Mr potter. I am not here to listen to your excuses or foolish reasons. I want you to tell me what has been happening and spare no detail.”

Harry takes a deep breath and then tells her everything, starting with the odd feeling at Hogwarts and how it had grown stronger until the shadows appeared. He tells her about thinking he was haunted and the blue orb that protected him that he’s now sure is a person. By the time he’s reached the end and is describing what happened during the last attack, he’s having trouble keeping his eyes open as weariness weighs down on him.

Even though he’s been sleeping for the last two days he feels drained and weak. When he tries to take a sip of water his hand shakes so badly that McGonagall reaches out to steady his hand in a motherly fashion. Her kind action only makes his guilt at not confining in her sooner worse, and he uses the tepid water to wash the bile that tries to rise in his throat.

“Have you managed to identify the source of these attacks?”

He knows its touch feels like ice and that it radiates fear and that it’s dangerous, but he still has no name for it. The only thing he does know is that he can’t imagine that this thing is natural since it feels so wrong to him, its something that shouldn’t be but he can’t keep hold of that thought as his head pounds.

“No,” Harry whispers as he keeps his musings to himself and relays facts rather than feelings. “It reminders me of a dementor but I know its not one of them. Ron, Mione and I have been trying to work it out but haven’t found anything that fits.”

McGonagall purses her lips at his words, and her eyes move away to stare into the distance, and he knows that she is as puzzled as he is about the ghost. It worries him greatly that McGonagall doesn’t know what this thing is either, but he fights past the desire to sleep in the hopes she can tell him something reassuring.

“Headmistress, what’s going to happen now? Am I going to be sent away?”

McGonagall frowns at his questions and shakes her head, “For now you shall remain at Hogwarts where your peers and professors can keep an eye on you. I will speak with the other members of staff, and together we will deal with your ‘ghost’, but I insist that you allow us to do that without involving yourself or Mr Weasley and Miss Granger any further. Until this situation has been rectified, I expect you to take care and seek help the moment you feel anything amiss. Have I made myself clear Mr Potter?”

“Yes, Headmistress,” Harry mumbles. He would prefer to remain involved in solving the mystery or at least to be informed when they discover what it is, but he’s in no condition to make those requests. A yawn escapes him, and he removes his glasses to rub at his heavy and sore eyes.

“Rest now Mr potter, I will have an elf bring up the work you have missed in class to prevent you falling behind in your studies.”

Harry thanks her and then takes the potion Madam Pomfrey hands him without complaint. Placing the empty vial and his glasses on the side table he snuggles into the bedding and soon falls asleep.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The prompt word for today is: Prince

The next time Harry wakes up, he feels rested, and his headache has faded to the barest tingle of discomfort over his right eye where he finds a small bruise. He must have hit it when he blacked out, but at least he doesn’t have any broken bones or missing ones.

After a check-up and a mild healing spell, Harry is more than ready to get out of the hospital wing. He’s starving and wants to sneak down to the kitchen, but Madam Profrey puts her foot down and has food brought up to him.

He’s just finishing it when Ron and Hermione return and seeing them instantly improves his mood.

“Hey, guys.”

“You’re looking better,” Ron mentions as he drops onto the hard stool by Harry’s bed.

“I feel fine, but apparently I’m not leaving until tomorrow.”

“Are you still going to be able to go down to Hogsmead?”

At Hermione’s question Harry lets out a groan, he’d forgotten that they were all going to Hogsmeade to get their costumes for the Halloween party. With the recent attacks, the party had been pushed to the back of his mind and along with it his excitement for the event. That didn’t mean he wanted to miss out on it and he didn’t want to be the only one there without a costume.

“I don’t know, but I hope so, the feeling seems to be centred on Hogwarts so I might be safer in the village than here.”

Dropping his voice to a whisper, Ron leans closer, “Might be a good idea not to mention it at all and just slip down there tomorrow.”

“Ron, that’s a stupid thing to say. Harry needs to be careful and informing a Professor of where he’s going is the mature thing to do unless you want him to be attacked again.”

Ron throws his hands up, eyes darting between Hermione and Harry, “Of course I don’t, but he’ll be safer with us than here alone won’t he.”

Hermione frowns but lets out a hum of agreement, “We should still tell one of the Professors, and possibly ask for an escort to be safe.”

Harry and Ron share a look that makes it clear neither of them is pleased with Hermione’s suggestion. They are adults and don’t need a babysitter, but Ron’s shrug tells Harry that there is no point in arguing. After putting off involving the teachers, Hermione won’t be silenced again.

“Alright, it’s a moot point anyway. I might end up stuck in here tomorrow bored out of my head with only homework for company.” Harry drapes his arm over his face and lets out an extravagate sigh of despair. He hears both Hermione and Ron start laughing, and when he moves his arm and winks at them, they all dissolve into a fit of giggles.

“Maybe the blue light will come and save you from that?” Ron jokes once he can speak again.

“About that, I’ve been thinking,” Harry starts, “Remember we thought the footsteps came from someone causing the ghost but what if they were from whoever cast the light spell. The only time I’ve heard footsteps was when the blue light appeared, and I’m positive I saw someone just before I blacked out.”

“It's possible, but I still don’t understand why they wouldn’t come forward. They must know about the ghost and that it’s after you so why run away after saving you.”

Harry bites his lip as he tries to puzzle out an answer, but he’s not confident with the response he comes up with.

“Maybe they don’t want to be seen as a hero.”

“Who doesn’t want to be a hero?” Ron asks.

Harry slowly raises his hand and then points a finger down at himself, prompting Ron to smile and shake his head. “Bit late for that mate, you’re the hero of heroes so might as well enjoy the perks.”

“What perks? So far I’ve lost any right to privacy since my life is plastered over the newspapers and now I’m being haunted. Honestly I don’t blame them for not wanting to get too involved in the crap that follows me around, I should come with a warning label,” holding his hands up before him Harry draws them away from each other as he lets out his declaration.

“Proximity to this person is a risk to your health, please take extreme caution.”

“You’re not that bad, and you still managed to get yourself a protector, a what do muggles call them? Those people with wings that are meant to watch over people from above.”

“A guardian angel,” Hermione answers.

“Right, one of those.”

“I’d rather have a dashing prince that will sweep me off my feet. A protector is nice and all, but I’d rather know exactly who’s responsible. It’s not that I’m ungrateful and I own him a few thank you’s, but something about an unidentified helper makes me nervous.”

“Him?” Hermione queries with a wide-eyed look.

“Myrtle referred to her friend with the blue light as him, and the figure I saw looked more like a guy, but I didn’t see them clearly so I could be wrong. I don’t even know if Myrtle’s friend is the same person as the one who’s been helping me.”

“It’s the most likely explanation, but other than gender do you have any clues about who it could be.”

“None. I can’t imagine anyone wanting to hang out with Myrtle and whoever it is has been very careful about not being seen. I doubt it’s one of the younger students and definitely not a teacher and if it was an Eighth year like us, I'm sure they would have shown themselves.”

“Didn’t you ever ask Myrtle her friend’s name?”

“I thought it was one of those orb ghosts you told me about and before that I didn’t really care enough to ask,” Harry admits.

“Looks like you might have got yourself two boyfriends Harry,” Ron teases as he pulls a piece of parchment from his pocket which he reveals to be the marauders' map.

“I don’t have one boyfriend,” Harry gripes as he tries to take back his map, but Ron stands up, and no matter how high Harry stretches even going onto his tiptoes he can’t reach it. He drops back onto the bed with a huff as with a chuckle Ron steps away and brings the map down to his face to look at it.

“Well looks like your ‘not boyfriend’ is coming to visit.”

“What?”

In a panic, Harry reaches up and tries to flatten his hair knowing it’s a lost cause but unable to stop the nervous habit. He gives up after a few pats and instead focuses on his clothes, the pale blue cotton pyjamas aren’t very flattering, and the creases in them only make them worse. His head snaps up as Hermione lets out a giggle while Ron is bent double holding his sides as he fails to hold back his amusement.

“You’re face, priceless.”

Harry’s eyes narrow at Ron, and he snatches up his wand from the table and Accios the map from Ron’s hand. A quick scan reveals that Draco is sitting in the library and is not in fact on his way here. A little bit upset by that and irritated at his friend’s joke he hits Ron with a stinging hex putting more power into it than he usually would.

“Bloody hell! That hurt.”

“It wasn’t supposed to tickle, and you were asking for it,” Harry snaps folding his arms as he glares down at the white sheets on the bed.

“You really do have a crush on Malfoy don’t you?”

Harry doesn’t answer Ron, partly because he’s still a little miffed at him but mostly because he doesn’t know what to say. A tiny irrational part of him is worried that Ron will flip and start bringing up the past again or that he’ll be disgusted because it’s one thing to say he doesn’t care that Harry’s bi but another thing entirely to see him dating a guy.

“He seems to like you too,” Hermione says as she sits down on the bed beside him her voice gentle and full of affection. Harry lets out a sigh, and the tension leaves his body so that his shoulders sag as he looks over at her.

“Yeah, as a friend or at least I think we’re friends now. He’s probably straight anyway,” Harry mutters.

“Malfoy, straight? I’ll bet you 100 galleons he’s not,” Ron interrupts throwing his hands up in exasperation.

“And what makes you so sure about that. He dated Parkinson before the war.”

“First off, I don’t think they were dating, and secondly, I’m sure because I saw his face when you legged it out of potions and he keeps giving you sweets.” Picking up the lolly that is still sitting uneaten on Harry’s bedside table Ron waves it in front of Harry’s face. “It’s like he’s courting you with these things, but I’m sure that it’s not actually a custom, even for purebloods.”

Harry is sure his face has gone bright red, but he can’t stop it or the smile that curls his lips upwards.

“How many of those lollies has he given you?” Hermione asks curiously.

“Um, three. I’ve got the first one he gave me in my trunk in the dorm.”

“So you do like him then,” she nudges, and Harry nods as he runs his hand through his hand.

“Yeah, I don’t know how it happened, but I do.”

“And are you gonna tell Malfoy that?” Ron asks as he drops back into the stool and hands Harry the lolly.

“Not yet, I’ve got a ghost to bust first. The last thing I want is him getting scared off or worse,” Harry explains.

Ron and Hermione nod in understanding and picking up on Harry’s sombre mood they change the subject to the Halloween party. Too soon in Harry’s opinion, Madam Pomfrey arrives and hustles his friends away, complaining that her patients need to rest.

Considering the long nap, Harry has just had he’s not feeling very tired and remains sat on his bed, twisting the lolly in his hand. A small smile spreads over his face before he set it back on his table and pulls out the marauders' map, following Draco’s dot as he leaves the library and heads down to the dungeons. “Mischief managed,” Harry whispers as he taps the brownish paper. He folds it up and tucks it under his pillow and lets himself daydream about what it would be like if Draco were his boyfriend.

He imagines them having seekers games, racing each other for the snitch and Draco pouting if Harry beats him. His pink bottom lip sticking out invitingly so that Harry can’t help but capture it in a kiss. His hands running through Draco’s hair and discovering if it’s as soft as it looks. He could finally reach out and brush aside the lock that always falls forward and gaze into Draco’s eyes without feeling self-conscious about their blushing cheeks. He could so easily picture them trading sarcastic comments, Draco’s smirk turning to a smile before he laughs, his face utterly open in that moment.

Harry isn’t sure that any of it will ever become a reality but just the possibility is enough for him to vow to himself that once his ghost is gone he’s going to ask Draco on a date.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The prompt word for today is: Sultry

Harry taps his foot impatiently as he waits for Madam Pomfrey to finish talking, his mind already drifting down the long path to Hogsmeade.

“..now I expect you to be more careful young man, I’ve seen you one too many times in here.”

“Hmm, oh right yes ma’am,” Harry answers distractedly as he gives her what he hopes is a charming smile.

“Don’t be cheeky, now off you go before I change my mind about releasing you so soon.”

Worried she may carry out her threat, Harry quickly waves goodbye and hurries from the hospital wing. The elves will have just started to layout breakfast, and Harry wants to eat with his friends before they all head out together.

The moment Harry enters the hall, his eyes dart to the Slytherin table and lock with Draco’s, a flash of surprise shows on his face before a smile slowly spreads over it. Harry returns the smile, and for a second, his body turns, and he takes a step towards Draco before the calls from the Gryffindor table pull him back.

With an almost apologetic look at Draco Harry jogs over to Ron and Hermione, taking a seat between them and Ginny. She throws an arm over his shoulder while punching him in the arm with her other hand.

“You have to stop scaring us like this Harry, Ron’s hair is going to turn white and he’s unattractive enough already.”

She ducks away as a bread roll is thrown at her and sticks her tongue out at Ron even as he reaches for a second roll.

“Now now children, keep that up, and you’ll be in trouble,” Harry warns tilting his head towards Hermione and her fierce expression.

Ron gingerly puts the roll on his plate with a nervous chuckle before swallowing and focusing on his food.

“Whipped,” Ginny whispers in Harry’s ear, making him smirk.

“You’re just as terrified of Mione as he is. Everyone is scared of her, and if they aren’t, they bloody well should be.”

Ginny shrugs but doesn’t argue which shows the truth of Harry's words, even if she’ll never admit it.

“So what happened this time?”

Taken off guard by Ginny’s question, he stalls for time by filling his plate, “Oh just exhaustion and stress. I’ve been pushing myself hard this year to get my grades up before our N.E.W.Ts.”

“You still wanna be a Professor then?”

Harry nods in reply as he chews the jam covered toast in his mouth, swallowing it he licks the crumbs from his lips.

“Yeah. So long as I pass my exams.”

Ginny lets out a huff of air, “You’ve gotten boring, Harry. Don’t you want to go on adventures with Ron and chase down the bad guys?”

“Or girls,” Dean pipes up giving Ginny a wink from across the table.

“There’s only one bad guy Harry’s interested in catching, and he’s currently glaring at you Gin,” Ron says as he nudges Harry in the side. Harry’s eyes whip to the Slytherin table, but Draco isn’t looking at them, his eyes downcast at the goblet in his hand. However, he’s clearly bothered by something judging from the small furrow of his brow.

“Malfoy? You have a-.” Ginny says before Harry covers her mouth with his hand, but it’s too late as most of the Eighth years turn to look at him. Harry can feel his cheeks heating, and he shoots a dark look at Ron for opening his big mouth. As Ginny forces his hand away, Harry prepares himself for her judgement and avoids meeting anyone's eyes as he picks up his fork and plays with the food still on his plate.

“Really? Him?”

There's a hint of disbelief and sorrow in her tone which lifts Harry’s shoulders up to his ears and causes his stomach to cramp. He knows she doesn’t have feelings for him anymore and the hurt in her voice is because of Draco’s past behaviour.

“I’m sorry mate, I wasn’t thinking,” Ron mutters with regret, but Harry doesn’t respond, pressing his lips into a thin line as he tries to think of what to say.

“To be honest it’s not really much of a shock,” Seamus says cutting through the tense silence. “It might just be me, but I’ve always thought there was something between them.”

“Usually drawn wands,” says Dean which causes a few sniggers.

“Just how long have you had this crush?” Ginny asks clearly, not distracted by Dean’s joke.

“Not long,” Harry mutters able to answer that question, and he anxiously lifts his head. “He’s different this year.”

Ginny’s eyes travel across the room, and Harry watches as the corner of her mouth curls upwards, “I guess he is. I take back my comment about you being boring since it seems you do still enjoy living dangerously.” Her eyes move back to his and Harry can see a spark of understanding in them that loosens his muscles and reduces the tightness in his chest, and he smiles back at her.

“I don’t think my life will ever not be dangerous,” he scoffs.

“That’s true, so I hope pretty boy over there is worth it.”

Harry can feel his face growing warm again at her words, and he rubs his hand on the back of his neck sheepishly.

“I don’t know, I haven’t actually, um, told Draco how I feel. Yet,” he adds when Ginny’s mouth drops open.

“Why not? And since when did you call him Draco?”

“Harry and Draco have been talking since the beginning of the month and have become friends,” Hermione answers before Harry has a chance.

“Thanks for letting me know,” Ginny gripes as she rolls her eyes, “But that doesn’t explain why you haven’t told Malfoy.”

Harry pushes away his plate, his appetite vanishing as Ginny grills him for answers and he wishes the floor would open up and swallow him.

“We’ve only just started to be friends, and I don’t even know if he likes guys. He might be a homophobe,” Harry reasons.

Ginny shakes her head, “That’s muggle rubbish, I’ve told you before wizards don’t care about that stuff.”

“I’ll tell him but not just yet.”

Throwing her hands in the air, Ginny snaps out a ‘fine’ before asking if everyone is ready to head to Hogsmeade. Harry’s about to nod along with everyone else until he remembers Hermione’s heavy-handed suggestion yesterday however she’s rising along with everyone else linking her arm with Ron’s.

Harry gives her a questioning look, but she just smiles at him in response and urges him to come along. Confused and a little worried he waits until they are outside before tugging her back a bit to whisper in her ear.

“What about talking to a Professor?”

Hermione grins back at him and presses an eloquent brooch into his hand, the centre containing an amber coloured stone, “I spoke to Mcgonagall first thing this morning. Since you’re technically an adult she can’t prevent you from leaving school grounds but she did agree that some safety measures would be beneficial. That is a portkey, specially designed to allow passage into Hogwarts so if the ghost appears all you have to do is hold on to it and say hopscotch and it’ll take you to McGonagall's office.”

“Hermione, have I told you recently that you’re brilliant?” Harry asks as he slips the brooch into his pocket before giving her a hug.

“No, and I wouldn’t mind hearing it more often.”

Harry chuckles into her shoulder before pulling back to tug her hat down over her eyes, “Then tell that to your boyfriend.”

“Harry,” Hermione yelps as she fixes her hat, but he’s already dashing down the path to catch up with everyone else a cheery expression on his face. It’s a relief to know that he’s not going to have a Professor playing bodyguard and confident that the ghost won’t show he plans to enjoy a day out with his friends.

*******************************

Harry lets out a sigh as he shakes his head at the costumes on display, none of them are taking his fancy, and he looks around for Hermione or Ron to ask their opinion. He spots them cuddling in a corner, Ron leaning down to press soft kisses to Hermione’s lips as she lets out a quiet giggle and tries to hide her blushing face in his chest.

_ Completely love-struck_, Harry thinks as he turns away to give them some privacy and finds two shocks of bright blonde hair. Luna is running her hand over the fabric of a floaty grey dress while Draco taps a finger on his lips studying the costume thoughtfully.

Harry’s a little surprised to see the pair of them together and full of curiosity he walks closer, raising a hand in greeting.

“Hey, Luna, Draco.”

“Oh, hello, Harry, what do you think? I was considering going as the Grey Lady to the party, but Draco thinks it’s too boring.”

“Because it is. I’d expect Granger to come up with that idea, but you’ve always been a bit more creative,” Draco explains, dropping his hand to rest it on his hip.

“Good point, not to mention that Hogwarts already has enough ghosts, right, Harry?”

Coughing into his hand to hide the fear that has clenched around his heart at Luna’s comment, Harry nods.

“Right, don’t want any of them to be insulted,” he mutters.

“Then it’s settled I’ll make my own costume, thank you. Now we just need to find Draco a costume.”

“You're coming to the party?” Harry asks, his stomach flipping in excitement.

“If that’s alright, Luna invited me but…” Draco trails off as he waves a hand before finishing the sentence, “I wasn’t sure how welcome I would be.”

“I’d love to see you there,” Harry says too quickly before shoving his hands into his pockets as his cheeks burn. “And I’m sure no one would mind you coming.”

Draco lets out a snort of laughter, a dusting of pink covering his cheeks, “Very well since you seem so eager for my attendance. However, I still need a costume.”

His eyes graze the shops’ selection, and he raises an eyebrow in disinterest.

“You’d make a good vampire,” Harry offers.

Draco frowns at his words as he crosses his arms over his chest.

“A cold-blooded monster, are you trying to tell me something, Harry?”

Too late Harry realises his mistake and rushes to explain, “That’s the wizards' view of them, but for muggles vampires are seen as sexy, sort of sultry creatures of darkness.”

More embarrassed than before at what he said, Harry pulls a hand from his pocket to run it through his hair. Draco cocks his eyebrow as he smirks and steps closer to Harry.

“Is that so, and do you think I can pull off sultry Harry?”

The gleam in Draco's darkening eyes isn’t sultry but downright sinful and causes the blood in Harry’s cheeks to head south. Shifting his feet, Harry tugs his coat tighter around him in the hope of covering his reaction to Draco’s softly drawled question. He licks his lips and clears his throat before feeling confident enough to answer without his voice coming out in a high squeak.

“Yes, I um think you could certainly pull me off, I mean it, you could pull it off,” Harry says his eyes widening at his slip up and he really wishes the ghost was here so he’d have an excuse to flee. As it is he’s frozen like a deer in headlights as Draco smiles devilishly at him and tilts his head to the side.

“Good to know, but I want something a little different. Halloween is an excuse to become whatever or whoever you want to be.”

“And who do you want to be,” Harry whispers trapped in the steely grey of Draco’s eyes as they remain locked on his own.

“Something less dark or evil, I’ve grown bored of that theme.”

“You could be an angel, I think it fits you very well and wouldn’t take much work,” Luna says dreamily breaking through the haze of Harry’s mind. He had forgotten she was there for a moment and where they were. Draco steps back as he chuckles at her comment, the rich sound doing unspeakable things to Harry’s heart as it skips in his chest.

“I disagree I don’t think there’s a cleaning charm strong enough to polish my halo, but I’m sure I can come up with something. I forgot to mention it earlier, but I’m delighted to see you’re feeling better.”

“Yeah, I didn’t mean to cause such a fuss in potions, but I’m fine now. Um, thanks for the lolly.”

“You’re welcome, which reminds me I have to restock my supply. It was nice chatting to you, Harry, be sure to take care of yourself.”

“Harry’s aura is a little cloudy, but I don’t think it’s anything to worry about. Come on Draco I want to get some pepper imps.”

“I don’t know how you can eat those things,” Draco says as he grimaces in disgust, but Luna has grabbed his hand and is pulling him towards the door.

“Bye, Harry,” she calls over her shoulder.

“Ok, uh bye,” Harry answers still puzzled over Luna’s strange comment and abrupt topic change. It not exactly uncommon for her to be a bit weird but with everything that’s been happening Harry can’t help but find himself unsettled.

It’s also a great distraction from how stupid he had sounded and acted around Draco. He tries in vain to forget about his epic mistake, but the words are burned into his brain, and all he really wants to do is curl up into a ball of shame. He doesn’t do that but instead goes to hunt down his best friends so that they can help him pick a costume because once that’s done he plans to get very drunk.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The prompt word for today is: Fairies

“So the ghost or whatever it was is gone?” Harry asks as he leans forward in his chair, studying McGonagall's expression.

“So it would seem, I have been checking in with both the ghosts and the house elves, and neither of them has felt anything amiss at Hogwarts since your last attack. It is possible the spell that protected you also destroyed the entity, unless you have failed to mention any recent instances of distress,” Professor McGonagall says as she rests her linked hands on her desk.

“No, not even a shiver.”

A broad grin splits Harry’s face, and it’s a struggle not to jump up with a loud cheer. Finally things seem to be going right for him and if he ever discovers who his mystery protector is he’ll bloody well kiss them in gratitude.

“Then I believe we can assume that the problem has been fixed and you may continue your studies in peace.”

“Yeah, now I can relax it’ll be much easier to focus in class,” Harry replies rising from his chair, eager to tell his friends the good news.

“I guess that means Peeves is back then,” he adds as an afterthought with a small chuckle. He’s actually started to miss Peeves and his childish jokes.

“Peeves has not reappeared. No-one has seen or heard from him in over a week, but I’m confident he’ll return for Halloween to cause mischief,” McGonagall sighs with exasperation.

“Oh.”

Harry frowns, the idea that Peeves hasn’t shown up worries him despite McGonagall's calm explanation. There is just something about Hogwarts without the poltergeist that doesn’t sit well with Harry, but he quickly forces a smile to cover his unease.

“Thanks for letting me know about the ghost Headmistress.”

“You’re welcome Mr Potter,” she answers waving her hand towards the door prompting him to take his leave. He skips down the steps feeling an odd mix for cheerful and nervous so that when he meets his friends at the bottom of the spiral staircase he isn’t sure how to greet them.

“What did the Headmistress say?”

“The ghost is gone, or they can’t find it. McGonagall thinks it was destroyed by the blue light but….”

Hermione purses her lips as Harry’s words trail off as his mind wanders to something Myrtle said.

“But what?” Ron asks jolting Harry back to the present.

“But Myrtle said that her friend isn’t strong enough to get rid of the ghost. I remember asking her about it, and they still haven’t found Peeves. It just seems too easy.”

“Maybe this time it is, Myrtle could have been wrong, or her friend learned a new spell and Peeves being gone isn’t really a bad thing. I mean I bet he’ll show up at the worst moment and cause a right mess,” Ron says with a shrug.

“Maybe,” Harry mumbles before his eyes shift to Hermione. Silently he asks for her opinion, unwilling to get his hopes up until she reassures him.

“It’s hard to say what happened to the ghost, but the fact that you haven’t felt anything in almost a week is a good sign. For now we have no reason to believe the ghost is still around, so there is no point worrying about it.”

With a nod, Harry accepts Hermione's words, worrying about things won’t do him any good. He’s better off thinking positively and enjoying himself. As he relaxes Harry smiles at his friends before lunging forward to tackle them into a hug.

“No more ghost and no more being haunted. We should celebrate. Why don’t we go for a walk down to Hagrid's?”

“Sure,” Ron says as he pats Harry’s back before twisting out of his grasp.

“It has been a while since we visited and I’m sure he’ll be pleased to see us.”

“Well come on then,” urges Harry as he lets go of Hermione and strides towards the castles main entrance.

As they cross the grounds towards Hagrid’s hut Harry stops dead in his tracks. From the corner of his eye he had seen a flash of blue, almost like a flash of light.

Without a word to his friends Harry runs towards where he saw it, noticing as he gets closer that there are two people sat under a tree at the edge of the forbidden forest with several different coloured lights flittering around their heads.

“Fairies,” Harry gasps as one flies closer, zipping around his head before flying back to join the rest.

“Yes, fairies encourage inspiration to strike and have been known to grant people luck if they like you,” Luna says dreamily as she rises to her feet and begins to dance much to the annoyance of the fairies who drift away to hover around Draco.

“Why’d you run off mate,” Ron asks before giving Luna a strange look as she spins on the spot while humming to herself.

“I thought I saw a blue light, but turns out it was just a fairy.”

The blue fairy zooms over to Harry and buzzes angrily around his head.

“Never insult a fairy, they are as prideful as a hippogriff. Besides blue is a lovely colour and my favourite,” Draco admits which prompts the fairy to abandon Harry to flitter before Draco, flashing off its shiny wings.

“Yes you’re stunning but I’m a little too busy right now to give you my attention.”

The fairy dips a tiny bit and then flies off into the forest, the others following a moment later.

“Is blue really your favourite colour?” Harry asks his eyes locked on Draco and the carefree smile he’s wearing.

“Of course not, it’s my second favourite,” Draco says with a wink before he rests his head back against the trunk of the tree with a sigh.

Harry, who had been about to ask what his favourite colour actually is, quickly changes his question and moves forward. As he drops to his knees before Draco, he curls his hands into fists, so he doesn’t reach out to fix Draco's hair.

“What’s wrong?”

Draco puffs a breath upwards shifting the loose lock away for a moment before it falls into his eye again.

“Draco still hasn’t decided on a costume for the Halloween party yet. I think his problem is that he’s over thinking it.”

Draco glares at Luna as his cheeks flush and hisses through his teeth, “And I thought you were supposed to be helping me?”

“I am,” Luna states with a grin finally swaying to a stop, “And now you have more people to help you.”

“I haven’t decided yet either, so I guess we’re in the same boat,” Harry confesses which causes Draco to arch an eyebrow at him.

“Hmm, it might be a bit too cliché, but you could do Salazar Slytherin and Godric Gryffindor?” Hermione suggests as she edges closer, standing just behind Harry.

“It is cliché, and our colourings are wrong for our founders. If anything Harry would be better off as Salazar since he is also a parseltongue.”

“Then why don’t we do that,” Harry says without thinking. Draco is frowning at him now, but there is a spark of interest in his eyes. “Think about it, a classic with a twist. So I’ll go as Salazar and you can do Godric. You did say you wanted something different.”

“Do you think you can play the part of a Slytherin?”

Harry shrugs in reply before smirking at Draco, “If it hadn’t of been for all the bad things I heard about Slytherin and the dislike of one person, in particular, I would have been sorted into your house.”

“What!”

A burst of laugh erupts from Harry at Draco's exclamation and a hand grips his coat tugging him forward.

“I want an explanation and I want it now.”

“The sorting hat said that I would do well in Slytherin, but I asked it to put me somewhere else and it chooses Gryffindor. I guess I have enough traits to fit into either.”

Holding his breath, Harry expects Draco to be insulted about Harry shunning his house, but Draco simply releases him with a shake of his head.

“I find that hard to believe, but now I have to wonder if I’m Gryffindor enough to play Godric.” As Draco speaks his right-hand drifts to his left forearm which he grips tightly and Harry is sure the gesture isn’t a conscious decision since Draco is gazing away lost in thought.

“Well, if you want to get some experience being one of us, then you could join in our quidditch match after dinner,” Ron offers and Harry and Draco both whip their heads to look at him.

Draco quickly schools his expression to hide his shock at the invitation and clears his throat. “It would be nice to play again if it’s not too much bother.”

“Not at all,” Hermione declares before Harry has a chance to speak.

“Even better if you can beat Harry to the snitch, he’s getting far too cocky,” Ron teases as he bends down and messes up Harry’s hair.

“Piss off,” Harry grumbles as he shoves Ron's hand away and tries to flatten his hair. “Don’t listen to him; he’s just jealous of my skill.”

“My, my, haven’t you developed a bit of an ego Potter. Salazar would be proud,” Draco jokes with a smirk. “I guess for Godric's sake and my honour I’ll have to join in the game and beat you to the snitch.”

“I’d love to see you try.”

“I will do more than try,” Draco whispers leaning forward, so his face is only an inch from Harry’s as his eyes fall half-closed. Harry’s throat closes up as he looks into grey eyes that swirl like storm clouds and flash with danger. As if struck by lightning Harry’s whole body feels statically charged and magnetised. It draws him closer to Draco, the tips of their noses touching and Harry’s heart stops for a moment.

Swallowing, he tries to think about what's happening, but it's an impossible feat when he can feel Draco's breaths on his lips, and his own eyes begin to fall closed.

“I told you the fairies would solve all your problems Draco,” Luna says, her soft voice awakening Harry’s brain so that he pulls back as his face flames. Draco’s cheeks are also quite rosy and as Harry watches as he turns up his collar to cover them.

“Thank you Luna,” Draco says the words coming out a little chipped before he glances back at Harry with a shy smile. “See you later, Harry.”

Climbing to his feet, Draco loops his arm with Luna and begins to head back to the castle giving them a distracted wave over his shoulder.

“Oh, goodbye everyone,” Luna calls back as she twists around to smile at them all before letting Draco hustle her away once again.

“See I was right, no way he’s straight,” Ron mutters as he offers Harry a hand up. Harry doesn’t say anything as he ignores Ron’s teasing tone and instead catches Hermione's smug smile.

“Uh, let's go to Hagrid’s. Come on,” Harry stutters as he marches off and hopes his blush will have cooled by the time he gets there.

*****************************************

Harry can’t take his eyes off Draco as he flies in circles around the pitch grinning from ear to ear with child-like joy. There is just something mesmerising about watching Draco be so carefree, and it’s a stark contrast to how he had looked at the beginning of term. He’d seemed faded, forgettable and hardly even a ghost of the boy he had been as he sat in class with dull eyes and a blank expression.

In the air, Draco has finally come to life as he twists in dizzy spins and flashy loops and encourages Harry to join in. Together they race high above the game, lost in their own world as they fly in complex patterns around each other.

“Will you two stop dancing up there and pay bloody attention,” Ron bellows and Harry pauses to look over at his friend. Ron is hovering before the goal hoops, his face red and an arm thrown out in anger.

“We’re forty points down so stop flirting and catch that snitch.”

“Seriously Malfoy save it for after the match because I’m not losing to Ron again,” Ginny calls out as she weaves between the other players and throws the quaffle at the right hoop. Ron manages to lunge to the side and stop it, but that hasn’t cooled his temper as he viscously lobs the ball at Dean.

“Sounds like we're in trouble,” Draco chuckles as he flashes Harry a smirk clearly not bothered by Ginny’s words.

“Nothing new there, we’re always in trouble,” Harry shrugs back before he drifts a little closer to Draco.

“True but your in much more trouble than me, especially right now,” Draco whispers as he moves even closer to Harry.

“How so,” Harry whispers back, his brain focused more on Draco's striking eyes than what’s being said.

“Because,” Draco begins leaning closer and licking his lips, “You're going to lose.”

Harry has enough time to blink before Draco is zooming away, diving downwards and slipping between the chasers with flawless grace. With a growl Harry flies after him, his mind screaming at him about Draco being a sneaky bastard as he has to fight his way downwards. It becomes a game of cat and mouse as Harry chases Draco and the snitch that flutters wildly just before them. Even as Harry pushes his broom to go faster he knows he’s lost as Draco reaches out and wraps a hand around the snitch.

“Yes,” Draco hisses before with a cheer he flies upwards doing a series of tight loops before heading downwards to land. Harry lets out a huff as he lands, letting his broom fall to the floor as he crosses his arms.

"Come now Harry, don’t be a sore loser. Here sweets make everything better,” Draco says as he pulls out a lolly presenting it to Harry like a flower. As he takes it Harry can’t help but stop pouting at the cheeky smile on Draco's face, and his disappointment at losing disappears within a second.

“Oh, mystery solved. So that’s who you got it off, no wonder you wouldn’t share,” Ginny teases as she lands by Harry and nudges him with her elbow before making a grab for the lolly out of Harry’s hand.

“Don’t even think of trying to steal this one, I’ll only chase you down again,” Harry says as he quickly moves the lolly out of reach and hides it in his pocket.

“I believe I've missed something because neither of you are making sense,” Draco cuts in looking between Harry and Ginny with a sullen expression. Ginny raises her eyebrows as she looks pointedly at Harry and then steps away to stand by Draco side.

“Don’t worry about it Malfoy, needless to say, Harry is very attached to your little gifts and gets moody if someone tries to take them from him.” Harry settles for rolling his eyes at Ginny rather than risk saying more, as the other players land around them.

“What’s going on,” Ron asks as he takes in Ginny and Draco stood together.

“Nothing, sorry for missing the snitch,” Harry says changing the topic before Ginny can say anything else that might reveal his crush.

“Had to happen eventually, you can’t win them all,” Ron says as he casually leans on his broom before he looks up at the rapidly darkening sky. “Come on we better get back. I’m bloody freezing anyway.”

Collecting up their brooms and locking them away in the shed, they all begin heading up to the castle. Harry and Draco hanging back together as they discuss a rematch or even a seekers game.

“Here, this is yours,” Draco says as he hands back the snitch. Harry’s fingers brush Draco’s as he takes it and the chilly touch sends a shiver down his spine.

“Draco I,”

“I wanted to,”

As both of them speak at the same time, the words mix into a jumbled mess that makes them both let out nervous chuckles.

“Sorry you go first,” Draco says, but Harry having now lost his nerve shakes his head.

“It was nothing so what were you going to say.”

“Oh, it’s nothing important. I’ve got to go this way,” Draco points with his thumb over his shoulder to the corridor that leads to the dungeons.

“Right, I’ll see you tomorrow,” Harry mutters pointlessly.

“Indeed, goodnight Harry,” Draco replies before turning and walking away leaving Harry alone with his embarrassment and annoyance. With a groan he turns and starts walking the long path to the Gryffindor tower mentally berating himself for chickening out and not asking Draco on a date when he’d had the chance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a headcanon of what the founders look like which I only learned after writing this chapter is wrong so just imagine that Salazar has long black hair and looks sort of like Loki and Godric has golden blond and looks like a less musclular Thor and you'll be close to what I pictured.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The prompt word for today is: Smoke

Harry’s gaze moves over the room, and he admires the pumpkins from Hagrid that have been carved into frightening faces and lit by flickering lights, so they seem to shift. The lighting is dim, further enhancing the creepy vibe and magical mist coils around there feet. If not for the fact Harry hasn’t felt any trace of his ghost he’d be a little unsettled by what could be crawling along the floor out of sight. As he’s thinking this a hand comes down on his shoulder and Harry turns to see rotting flesh and pure white eyes.

“Shit,” he hisses as he jumps back and the inferius before him begins to chuckle, the expression shifting so that Harry can now recognise Dean. He must have used a ton of magic to alter his skin colour to an unhealthy grey which is also covered in open wounds.

“Fear not, I shall save you,” Ginny shouts as she jumps before Dean, banishing a cutglass.

Harry continues to take deep breaths while waiting for his heart to slow down and admires Ginny’s pirate costume. The white ruffled shirt is tucked into a pair of skin-tight black trousers, and a red strip of fabric has been tied around her head while leaving her long hair to fall in loose waves down her back. Harry is convinced after watching her pretend to fight off Dean that she chose her costume purely so she could play with a sword. She lets out a cry of victory as she slips the sword between Dean's arm and body.

“I’ve run ya through. Back to Davy Jones lockers for ya,” she roars before they both burst into peals of laughter.

“No fair, it’s my job to save everyone,” Seamus states and Harry’s eyes move to him before they narrow in annoyance.

“Seriously Seamus?”

“Have a sense of humour Harry,” Seamus replies as he pushes a pair of round-rimmed glasses back up his nose. A lightning bolt has been drawn on his forehead in red ink.

“Are you wearing my clothes? I mean my actual clothes and my glasses?”

Harry had swapped out his glasses for contacts tonight but seeing them on someone else is just a little bit surreal.

“Yeah, wanted to make it more authentic,” Seamus replies with a cocky grin. “So how’s this?” Widening his stance Seamus points his wand towards Harry and drops his smile into a stern expression, “Expelliarmus, Expelliarmus. I am the slayer of the Dark Lord and hero to all. Pretty good right?”

Ginny is struggling for breath as she bends double-clutching her stomach and letting out gasps of laughter. Dean is managing to hold it together a little better, but his shoulders are shaking, and his lips are pressed tightly together in an attempt to hold back his own amusement. Harry just crosses his arms and raises a single eyebrow, something he’s been practising since Wednesday in preparation for tonight.

“Ha-ha, how amazingly realistic,” Harry drawls sarcastically, before smirking at Seamus and moving close enough to whisper into his ear.

_ “But you’ll never be me.” _

Seamus shudders as Harry’s hissed words ghost over his ear, the dry rasp of parseltongue turning the simple sentence into something sinister and threatening.

“What did you say?” Seamus asks nervously when Harry draws back. Smiling wider Harry locks his eyes with Seamus and tilts his head.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Without another word and before Seamus can speak again, Harry turns, the long green cloak of his costume sweeping behind him as he walks away as he tucks a lock of hair behind his ear. He's still a little bemused at having it so long and straight.

However, Harry had looked up pictures of Salazar, and while he had been bald at the time of his death in his prime he’d sported black shoulder-length hair. It’s that look which Harry decided to imitate tonight and as it took only a bit of hair growth potion and a full bottle of Sleekeazy to copy it. In addition to that he also has a small pointed goatee on his chin which he finds himself curling around his finger as he walks over to Neville. He could hardly recognise himself in the mirror so isn’t surprised by the confusion that flashes on Neville's face for a moment.

“Harry, wow, brilliant costume, but why Salazar and not Godric?”

“It’s a bit of a joke actually, Draco’s dressing as Godric. We thought we’d mix things up a bit, so it’s not too predictable.”

“That’s interesting, you two dressing up like them,” Neville says as he shifts nervously or that could just be the effect of green vines that twist around him.

“What do you mean?”

“Well historically speaking it’s a well-known fact that they were lovers.”

Harry’s mouth opens as his heart drops into his stomach then comes straight back up into his throat.

“What?”

Neville shrugs as he gives Harry an uncomfortable smile, “I thought everyone knew that. I’m sure Malfoy would.”

Harry’s brain begins to spin as he wonders if his spur of the moment idea might have been misunderstood by Draco. Did he think that Harry had made this suggestion with some sort of implied hidden message or that this is a date? Then again he might just be overthinking all this and Draco hasn’t even considered the past personal relationships of their chosen characters.

“Are you alright Harry?”

“Yeah, yes I’m fine,” Harry answers pushing away the thoughts dancing in his head until he can talk to Hermione about them since she had been the one to suggest the founders in the first place. There is no doubt in his mind that she knew all about them being lovers.

“Your costume looks great by the way, but what exactly are you meant to be?” Harry asks, trying to make polite conversation and failing miserably as his eyes scan the room for his other friends.

“I’m a mad scientist. I wanted to do something with plants but didn’t want to come dressed as a tree and Hermione suggested I do a mad doctor and add some plants to make it look like a mutation. I didn’t really understand her explanation but she helped me with the costume, so it turned out alright.”

Harry forces his attention back onto Neville and takes in his costume once more. He’s dressed in a white lab coat, the fabric stained with green patches and ripped in places to make it look tattered. One of his arms is covered in a mass of withering vines, and half his face is decorated with small plant shoots that look as if they are breaking through the skin. Even if it isn’t obvious what he’s supposed to be, Harry can’t deny that his costume delivers in the creepy department.

“Well, it looks great, honestly. Sorry but I have to go and speak to Hermione.”

“No problem,” Neville says, but Harry is already walking away his gaze fixed on Hermione near the refreshment stand.

Hermione herself is dressed as the maiden from The Warlock’s Hairy Heart from the Beedle the Bards book. A large bloodied hole sits in the middle of her chest, and her makeup has been crafted to make her appear gaunt and skeletal. Ron stands beside her with black veins drew on his skin, and his eyes charmed completely black to show the corruption of dark magic. In Harry’s opinion he looks frightening enough without the matching bloody hole in his chest or the heart he’s carrying in his hand. The shrivelled lump is covered in fine black hairs, and Hermione has charmed it to beat at random.

After reading the Tales of Beedle the Bard, Harry found the Warlock’s Hairy Heart to be the most disturbing and gruesome story in the collection and certainly darker than anything he’d come across as a child. Hermione had claimed that was the point and that it would work better for a costume than something from a muggle fairytale. Seeing them now Harry had to agree even as he scowled in irritation as he came to a stop before them.

“When were you going to tell me that Salazar and Godric were lovers?”

“I thought you knew, it’s a very well know historical fact.”

“So I’ve been told,” Harry mutters darkly, “You don’t think that Draco thinks I was implying something when I suggested we go as each others house founders, do you?”

“Does it matter if he does? I mean you’d have to be blind not to see the flirting going on between you two,” Ron says shaking his head.

“You and Hermione were flirting for years before you got together and it doesn’t mean anything. Some people are just flirts,” Harry argues back, reaching up to run a hand through his hair having forgotten that it’s much longer now.

“Stop stressing Harry, I’m sure if Draco had an issue with the costumes he wouldn’t have agreed. He likes you and very possibly more than a friend,” Hermione reasons and Harry takes a deep breath before releasing it slowly.

“I guess you're right.”

“I always am. Now go find your Gryffindor and enjoy the party.”

With a wave of her hand, Hermione shoos him away and not knowing what else to do Harry quickly grabs a glass of firewhiskey and wanders back into the crowd.

He lets out another sigh before taking a sip of his drink, his eyes downward to stare at the amber liquid. The party started a good thirty minutes ago, so where is Draco, he should have been here by now. As much as Harry tries not to, he can’t prevent himself from wondering if Draco might not show up at all. He’d been a bit distant the last few days, with barely a word or look passing between them. It seemed every time Harry saw Draco, he had his nose buried in a different book and a frown on his face as he nibbled on his lip.

Harry can't help but feel concerned that Draco picked up on his crush as is staying away from him as a way to let him down slowly but Harry’s sure he didn’t imagine the heat in Draco’s eyes during their almost kiss out on the grounds or his nervousness when they had parted after the quidditch match. Recently it’s been like Draco has reverted back to how he acted at the beginning of the year, sort of faded and too quiet and Harry really doesn’t like it.

“Hello Harry, I like your Salazar, and I think Draco will too.”

Harry looks beside him as he’s pulled from his thoughts and finds Luna, wearing what seems to be a horse’s skull on her head and has a collection of black bones pinned to her grey dress. A pair of black plastic wings spread from her back and Harry smiles as he realises what she is.

“A thestral, very creative. Um, do you know where Draco is?”

“I think he’s still in his room. I’m sure he won’t be much longer; however, he has been having trouble with his thoughts so I could be wrong.”

“Trouble with his thoughts, what do you mean?” Harry asks as his gut fills with a dreadful sense of apprehension.

“Draco thinks too much and worries even more. He’s probably running late because he’s scared of coming, I've told him people are very forgiving, but the truth has a hard time getting in when someone thinks they’re lies.”

Harry turns over Luna’s words in his head, untangling them to get to what she means and understanding dawns. His hand reaches for his pocket, but it’s empty save his wand, the marauders’ map safely hidden away under his mattress. He wishes he had picked it up, but it’s too late to fetch it now.

“Do you think I should go and get him?” Harry asks, his eyes staring at the door still hoping that Draco will step through it any minute.

“That would be nice of you if a bit silly. It is Halloween, and that means the shadows are at their darkest,” Luna warns with a small smile. “I think I’ll go say hello to Neville, bye Harry.”

“Luna wait,” Harry calls but she is already skipping across the room, lost in the smoke drifting in the air and the mingling people. Harry looks once more at the door and then glances around for Hermione and Ron before putting his glass down on a handy table and marching off to get Draco.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tommorows update will be posted late, the reason for why will be explained tomorrow if you check out the one shot I'm also posting then.


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The prompt word for today is: Help

Harry firms his spine as he continues down the dim corridor, Luna’s words have put him on edge, and his eyes linger on the shadows, and he is deliberately avoiding the suits of amour that line certain hallways, taking a slightly longer route to the dungeons. His ears prick at the slightest sound, and it causes his skin to break out in goosebumps, but he knows it’s all in his head.

He takes a deep breath to calm his nerves and focuses on the magic in the walls around him. Hogwarts feels the way it always has without any trace of discord in the soft hum that is just on the edge of Harry’s hearing. He hasn’t felt the ghost for over a week now, and it’s only his own paranoia that has his heart pounding in his chest.

He waves at the portrait of the girl with the flower basket as he walks down a flight of stairs as his steps relax into a comfortable rhythm and his worries drift away. The only thing Harry is concerned about at the moment is getting Draco and then getting back to the party and celebrating Halloween with his friends.

Unfortunately, as Harry passes the great hall he realises that he’s made a massive mistake since he has no way of getting into the Slytherin Common room and therefore no way to reach Draco.

A red flush covers his cheeks as he imagines shouting outside the Slytherin Common room and asking for Draco. It would be like he’s picking Draco up for a date and what if no-one can hear him and he’s just screaming at a brick wall. For all he knows Draco’s managed to get past him and is now in the room of requirements looking for Harry.

_ Coming out here was a really stupid idea_, he thinks and is sure that he’d hear that again from Hermione when he gets back to the party, and she finds out what he did. He lets out a sigh of frustration as he prepares to climb back up hundreds of stairs, his legs already giving a twinge of complaint. He silences them and the grumbles in his head by thinking about Draco and how amazing his costume will be.

Harry might not have seen Draco yet, but nothing will convince him that Draco hasn’t put a lot of effort into his appearance tonight and it will blow Harry away. Out of curiously, Harry had looked up Godric when researching his own costume and his house founder was a decent looking bloke and he tries to picture Draco as Godric. His white-blond hair will be darkened to gold and grown to his jawline so it frames his face in soft waves while he wore deep red robes, accented with gold trimmings which Godric seemed to favour.

Meanwhile Harry is wearing black robes with a dark green cloak clasped with an emerald encrusted silver pin. If Harry is being honest, he feels and looks like the villain, someone dark and dangerous. The sort of sorcerer that locks people in towers or turns them into toads. By comparison Draco will look like a storybook prince, noble and dashing, and Harry smiles at the comparison as he plans to be the one that sweeps Draco off his feet. At the very least he intends to try, but Draco can be very charming when the mood strikes, and he doesn’t need to do much to leave Harry a tongue-tied mess of hormones incapable of forming a sentence.

That might be the reason for Harry’s earlier panic over Draco thinking this was a date because Harry never knows what to say or says the wrong thing around Draco. Then other times everything feels so natural like they’ve always been friends and Harry can be as goofy as he wants because Draco will just laugh or make a sarcastic comment.

He needs to stop stalling and ask Draco out or at least make his feelings clear, though Draco’s not stupid. According to Ron Harry hasn’t been subtle about his crush so Draco likely knows and the fact that he flirted back is a good sign. _Isn’t it_, he asks himself, but his confidence starts to wane remembering Draco’s distracted attitude and then nerves about the party. With a groan Harry drops down onto a step and closes his eyes, he’s giving himself a headache with all his concerns over Draco and telling him or not telling him. Why is it so hard just to tell someone that you like them, without it feeling like you’re going to vomit?

Harry’s gut is churning, and he wraps his arms around it, not that it helps in the slightest. If anything the uneasy grows worse, the flutter of butterflies changing to a bottomless pit of dread. He feels hollow, like his insides have been scooped out and then a shiver travels down Harry’s spine.

His eyes snap open with panic as the air around him grows cold. He’s been so busy thinking of Draco that he forgot that he’s alone and unprotected with nothing but the shadows for company.

One shadow is creeping along the floor towards him darker than the others, running like tar or blood over the flagstones inching ever closer. For a second Harry is frozen in place too scared to move until with a burst of energy he jumps to his feet and flees up the stairs while his hand reaches for his wand. By the time he draws it from his pocket his hand is already sweaty but he ignores it and reaching the top step he spins and raises his shaking arm to hold his wand out ready to make a stand.

Wordlessly he casts, and his Patronus sprigs forth, galloping down the steps towards the withering darkness, its white light shining out like something holy, pure and good against the monster before it. Harry holds onto the memory tighter his heart racing with terror but also filled with happiness and love, Draco’s laughter as he swoops through the sky, eyes closed against the wind and mouth pulled wide by his smile as he throws his hands out and holds on to the broom with just his legs.

It’s a strong memory, full of the kind of intense happiness that is painful as your heart struggles to hold all the emotion inside, but the shadow rips his Patronus apart in a second flowing over it like an ocean wave, so that only a few white whips of light are left and they soon vanish as Harry drops his arm.

The only word to describe how Harry is feeling right now is helpless. He feels weak and small and scared. The type of fear that consumes a person, taking over their mind, body and soul until they barely have the courage needed to stay standing. It would be so easy for Harry to let his legs give out and drop to his knees, to curl his arms around himself and break down in tears but there is a spark inside him that refuses to give up.

Harry spins and runs, his legs powered by that spark, a tiny voice in his head that tells him to keep going. It’s why he was sorted into Gryffindor, that little bit of him that no matter how bad things get continues to fight and drives him to try when the odds are all stacked against him. It grows louder as Harry runs, echoing like his footsteps.

_ You can beat it_

_ You can do this_

_ You will live_

As Harry reaches the third floor, he looks back and sees the shadow less than a foot from him, tendrils of pitch-black darkness reaching out for him. He pushes himself to go faster, gritting his teeth at the burn in his legs and sucks in air desperately thought his nose for oxygen to lessen the pain in his chest.

An icy touch around his ankle brings Harry down, and his hands are scraped bloody as he throws them out to protect his face. The clatter of his wand on the stone floor snaps Harry’s head up, and he tries to crawl forward to pick it back up, but the shadow has him in its grasp and will not be denied.

Harry tries kicking, but the shadow moves like smoke, insubstantial as the cold steals away his strength and while Harry reaches out, dragging his nails on the stone as he scrabbles for his wand it coils upwards. Harry can feel it around his legs, his body and a thin band of ice around his neck that makes him cough as it chokes him.

His mouth is open as he gasps, and the shadow slips in, his teeth ache from the cold caress, and his tongue freezes in place incapable of calling for help. In desperation, Harry abandons the idea of reaching his wand and rolls onto his back. He brings his hands back to his body and grabs at the shadow. His hands passing through it so that he is clawing at his own face and neck as he thrashes on the floor.

Blood is running from the wounds he is making, but he can’t stop struggling as his lungs fill with the shadow. He can’t breathe, and it hurts, like drowning in a frozen lake.

_ I’m going to die_

_ I’m going to die_

_ I’m going to die_

_ Help me_

_ Please_

_ Someone_

_ Anyone_

_ Please_

His limbs grow heavy, and finally they fall to his sides as his eyes roll up into his head and the shadow pours into his mouth like water. The coldness spreads from his chest to his heart then his veins until it feels like he is being devoured from the inside out.

Everything has gone dark, as he gasps like a corpse on the floor until it seems like his very mind is drifting away. He shifts down into the darkness, deeper into his soul and away from his life.

“Harry.”

The sound of his name whispers around him, the voice distant and afraid but the fear doesn’t touch Harry, and soon the voice doesn’t reach him either as a new one takes its place, loud and sinister in Harry’s head it tells him, “You’re mine now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short chapter, tomorrows is a little longer.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The prompt word for today is: Before

Harry opens his eyes and finds himself in the middle of a battlefield, one he’s convinced he’s seen before. It’s like a nightmare that has played on repeat in his head, over and over. He ducks when a spell flies over his head as the silver mask of a death eater stands before him with their wand raised. Out of reflex he reaches for his own and finds his pockets empty.

_Did I drop it_, he thinks in a panic as he searches the ground, some distant part of him telling him that it’s close, that it fell just out of reach, but the ground is littered with nothing except rubble.

Harry falls to the floor as another flash of light flies towards him, hissing as sharp stones dig into his palms. He ignores it and crawls away, his eyes searching for a friend or an ally. A cloud of dust flies up into Harry’s face making him cough so hard his eyes water.

_ Just keep moving_, his brain screams, and he pushes himself up and races to the door of the castle. He knows that’s where he’ll find his friends and then everything will be fine, and he won’t be alone.

Shouts come from the corridor ahead, and he moves closer, afraid but unwilling to leave someone that might need help. A death eater falls at his feet as he goes to turn the corner and Harry looks up with a smile at seeing a friendly face. It drops, and the world shifts under his feet as he sees George standing there alone with his wand pointing forward and his face twisted in pain and anger.

It’s an expression that breaks Harry’s heart because he just knows what caused it and he doesn’t want to look, but his eyes drift against his will to the collapsed brickwork. He can see a hand, the sleeve of a jumper that he’d recognise as Molly’s work regardless of the bloodstains.

Fred’s face holds the trace of a smile with his eyes open and unseeing as they stare as Harry. A lump forms in Harry’s throat and no matter how much he swallows he can’t remove it or make the words come out. He wants to say sorry; he wants to tell George that it’s his fault because he wasn’t quick enough.

George has slumped to his knees, tears streaming down his face as he screams out his grief and clings to his twin. Lifting a hand Harry wipes the dampness from his face, he isn’t even sure when he started crying, but they are dripping off his chin, and he wipes at them quickly as he stumbles forward. He needs to reach George and offer what comfort he can though he knows it won’t be enough. He has only taken a few steps when he sees the other body and time stops.

_ That’s not right,_ his mind mutters brokenly. Percy is lying just beside his brother with his glasses broken and hanging half off his slack face. For just a moment, Harry thinks about how annoyed Percy will be about his glasses being broken when reality hits him and points out that Percy won’t need them anymore. For some reason he can't make sense of what’s before him, unable to process it because he knows Percy lived. He saw him just a few months ago…at the…Harry can’t remember as pain fills his head stealing away his thought.

“Harry!”

Turning at the sound of his name Harry sees Ron step into the hallway, and he opens his mouth to tell Ron to leave and look away before he notices.

He’s too late, and Harry can do nothing as Ron’s eyes land on the bodies and his mouth drops open as his eyes roll back into his head. As he falls, Harry sees the fading green light, and the death eater stood behind Ron who has been hit in the back, and just like that, another member of Harry’s family is no more.

Once more he checks for his wand, a weapon to defeat the monster before him and curls his empty fists in anguish. He hears George shout as he rushes past wand in hand, but he doesn’t bother using it as he swings his free hand and punches the enemy in the face making the mask fall to show Lucius’s face, and Harry frozen in place, watches his lips move as he cast a spell that throws George back.

He lands at Harry’s feet, a pool of blood forming around his head as he gasps for breath, once, twice and then George's chest stills. Slowly Harry looks up into Lucius’s grey eyes and tries not to shake at how cold and dead they are.

_ Draco’s eyes don’t look like that._

Harry frowns at the thought unsure where it’s come from, but a lance of pain goes through his head as his scar burns robbing him of the chance to focus.

Lucius smiles and steps back, his face turns to look behind him as a robed figure comes into view. Harry doesn’t waste a second before he turns and runs, his heart full of fear and shame and disgust. He left them behind, but what good can he do, nothing can bring back the dead, and he still needs a wand, his wand.

He heads for the Great Hall convinced that is where he’ll find the help he needs, but he can already hear the crying. The broken sobs more painful that a banshee's as they tug at Harry’s heartstrings and sing of loss and grief.

As he pushes open the door and steps inside all he can see is the rows of bodies, hundreds of them squeezed in together. Here and there, Harry can see someone that’s still alive, but they are crippled by their pain and don’t even glance his way. Unable to prevent it Harry scans the faces of the dead, he finds some he recognises and more than he doesn’t, but he knows they were too young to die. Children shouldn’t be here, but then again no one should be here, and they wouldn’t be if not for Harry.

This is all his fault, he’s the one that failed to protect them and brought this evil to Hogwarts. The first’s years stare at him with glassy eyes in silent judgment and bile rises in Harry’s mouth. He quickly covers it with a hand as he staggers backwards closing his eyes to the horror before him. His heart leaps as a hand settles on his shoulder until he makes out Hermione’s face through the tears in his eyes. He lets them fall as he wraps his arms around her, and his chest fills with gratitude that he has her.

“Harry there’s no time we have to destroy the Horcruxes,” she says pushing him away.

“What?”

“The Horcruxes, we have to stop this,” she repeats.

Harry shakes his head; they’ve done that already…. He tries to remember, but his head spins, and all he can see is bodies, image after image of unmoving corpses just like…Ron.

Harry’s eyes lock onto Hermione’s warm brown ones as dread and guilt consume him because she doesn’t know.

“Hermione, listen.”

“There’s no time,” she interrupts tugging at his arms and leading him upwards.

“We need to reach the room of requirement.”

Harry’s mind clears as he recalls their mission and pushing aside everything else he climbs higher until they reach the seventh floor. Together they pace three times before it, and when the door appears they lunge forward.

“Spread out and search,” Hermione says breathlessly to which Harry only nods in reply. However, three steps into the room the door opens again, and Malfoy walks in with his minions. Their wands are all drawn and pointed at Harry and Hermione. Goyle fires off a spell and once again Harry sees one of his best friends fall while he stands by and lets it happen.

Why didn’t he move or call out or…

He’s being herded backwards, three wands trained on him but Harry’s only watching Malfoy. His eyes won’t meet Harry’s and something about that is wrong, everything is wrong and if he can just remember. The wand in Malfoy’s hand shifts and for a second it holds a lollipop, and Harry gasps as a lance of pain goes through his head. He lifts a hand and presses it to his scar, but the pain only gets worse as a flash of something flits through his head. Draco handing him the sweet, his eyes alight with mischief and a smile curing his lips.

The pain goes and with it the memory so that Harry is once more facing his enemies. He’s alone and wandless and terrified. He clenches his jaw and closes his eyes as Goyle once again begins to cast, but Harry’s heart continues to pound in his chest.

Opening his eyes, all Harry can see is red, as flames cover everything around him boiling the air, so it shimmers. Harry spins in a circle looking for a way out and finds a gap between a large cabinet and a broken chair. With no other choice he runs that way, the flames licking at him as he passes and sweat trickles down his back at the heat that surrounds him.

In a blind panic he ducks and weaves through the burning rubbish, as his stinging eyes seek for the exit but land instead on a broom, the bristles a moment away from catching alight. In a mad dash, he snatches it up and mounts it in one fluid movement. Flying upwards, he can see further and finds the door within reach, but before he can surge forward he hears a scream behind him. Glancing back he can see Malfoy climbing up the piles of old furniture while the flames pursue him relentlessly.

Harry hesitates for a second, his gaze returning to the door, but for some reason he can’t force himself to fly forward. With a grunt he tightens his grip on the handle and swerves to the right, coming around in a circle, before shooting off towards Malfoy.

“Come on,” he shouts as he holds out his hand. Malfoy grabs on, the sweat on their palms making it a challenge to keep his grip but Harry squeezes tighter as he strains to pull Malfoy onto the broom. He thinks he’s almost managed it when Malfoy’s hand slips from his; he reaches out almost falling off the broom in the attempt to catch him but it's too late. The fire pounces on Malfoy, and Harry watches in transfixed shock as Malfoy screams and withers atop the pile of burning oddments.

It doesn’t take long for him to die which considering the circumstances is a blessing, his hair burned away in mere seconds followed by his skin blistering and then blackening until he finally falls silent. Harry stares at the charred remains unable to understand why his chest feels like it has been ripped in two. It’s more than the guilt of failure to save someone else, more than the shock of seeing someone die in such a horrendous way. It feels like his heart is breaking, that he has lost a part of himself or like he died along with Malfoy, but he is still breathing, and as the flames reach for his feet he turns away and flies towards the door as he chokes back gut-wrenching sobs.

Outside he struggles to close the door and take in a lungful of the cooler air when his throat is on fire. Each gasp is extremely painful, but he forces his chest to expand and deflate until the ache fades to nothing.

Numb, Harry shambles down the corridors, the world silent, and he can’t even hear his footsteps as he walks around the bodies and broken bricks. All he wants is for this to be over and there is only one way to achieve that. He doesn’t know why but he heads to the Great Hall once more, as something whispers to him that it’s where he needs to be.

He pushes the doors open again, having to lean his whole body against the doors to have the strength to move them. The rows of bodies have disappeared, and all that’s left is Voldemort standing in the centre of the room. Harry’s wand is in his hand as Voldemort smiles and beckons him closer.

Harry remembers this, but once again things are different than before, but he can’t focus on that as his head hurts, throbbing with nerve destroying intensity that makes his legs crumble under him. On his knees, he holds his head in his hands and screams from the pain. Red droplets land on the flagstone before him but all harry can do is taste the blood that pours from his nose and falls into his mouth. The pain lessens for a moment allowing him to open his eyes as Voldemort laughs sending a shiver down Harry’s spine.

“This time, I have won boy,” Voldemort taunts as tendrils of black slither around him and creep along the ground towards Harry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the angst in this chapter, please don't hate me.


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The prompt word for today is: Years

“This time?” Harry chokes out. Nothing makes sense, and his vision is blurry from the pain still hammering into his skull. He feels like he’s been trapped in this nightmare for years, fighting forever and he can’t go on.

The darkness is coming closer, and Harry knows he should run, but he can’t find the strength to stand or the will to fight anymore. It’s over and the cold sinks into his skin, biting like teeth at his flesh, and one tendril of darkness is less than a foot from him.

A flash of blue, the light warm as the ball hovers before Harry and the darkness moves back an inch.

“You can’t protect him this time, his body is mine, and soon I’ll have his mind. I will not be stopped,” Voldemort promises as the darkness lashes at the ball of light which sparks with each blow.

“You can’t save him, I’ve already won,” Voldemort continues, the darkness now pouring towards Harry and the little light grows dim before brightening in a blast of power. Harry’s eyes close instinctively, and his mind floods with memories.

He remembers the battle, how it ended.

He remembers his friends alive and healing.

He remembers returning to Hogwarts.

He remembers his dream to be a Professor.

He remembers Draco's shy smiles.

He remembers the shadows that hunted him in the hallways.

“You can win,” a voice whispers and Harry opens his eyes at the blue orb that floats before him. “Keep fighting, and you can win. This is your head, and you know it better than he ever could. Don’t give up Harry. Please.”

“Get out,” Voldemort roars as he throws his hand forward and the light blinks out of existence, but Harry doesn’t need it now. He wipes the blood from his nose onto the back of his hand and pulls himself to his feet.

“You’re dead,” Harry mutters out loud as he studies Voldemort. The edges of his form are blurry, showing the torchlight behind him and the darkness stills, twisting by Harry’s feet but not touching.

“I will never die,” Voldemort hisses back as he points Harry’s own wand at him. Harry frowns as he looks at it, the light said this is his head, and that makes all of this a dream, it’s not real. Somehow he doesn’t think he can just wake up and have this be over, but what should he do now.

The light said to fight but how when he doesn’t even have a wand, it’s not like he can just shout out a spell and have it happen. Can he? Just how much control does he have in his own mind?

The darkness is moving again, creeping closer but Harry isn’t afraid of it, he’s too busy thinking to worry about it right now. Locking eyes with Voldemort Harry holds out his hand and imagines his wand returning to him. He thinks about how the smooth wood feels against his palm, the way his fingers curl around the handle and the feeling of his magic pouring from him to the tip completing the circuit.

A second later, the wand is in his hand, and Voldemort is snarling at him, directing the shadows to attack. Harry gasps as they wrap around his arm first pulling his wand to point downwards, while still more wrap around his legs, constricting like a snake. They’re cold and as sharp as ice as they cut into his skin, sucking the energy from him and his legs wobble. Unable to prevent it Harry drops to his knees with a bone-jarring thump but he bites down on his lip to stop himself from whimpering at the pain.

He twists his face into a snarl as he looks up at Voldemort, the smug smile that dances around his thin lips, is infuriating. Harry fights against the shadows, not caring as they tighten from his struggles. He needs to get back up, needs to lift his wand and finish this once and for all.

_It is over_, his mind screams in anger. His body heating until it burns with the rage that boils his blood. He lived, and no one, alive or dead, is going to stop him from continuing to do so.

“I beat you once, and I can beat you again,” Harry shouts before the shadow coils around his neck, making it hard to draw in air.

“You got lucky. Here you are alone, no friends or meddling old men. Not even your little protector and once I’ve got control of this body; nothing will prevent me from taking my revenge. I will kill. I will tear apart the wizarding world and build it anew better than before. I am indestructible.”

Harry gasps as Voldemort cackles, his red eyes glowing from his skull-like face as the air around him grows darker. As Harry keeps watching and attempting to pull himself free of the shadow bonds holding him down Voldemort is swallowed by the darkness until only his eyes can be seen glowing like burning embers.

_ Think, think, think,_ the word loops in Harry’s head as his lungs burn. This isn’t just a dream and if he dies here and now there will be no coming back this time. He’s in his head and somehow so is Voldemort. The how doesn’t matter, for now, he can work that out once he has escaped the shadow that is covering him, killing him slowly as it drains him.

His wand is still in his hand, and his knuckles turn white as he grips it tighter. No matter what he won’t be parted from it again. He closes his eyes and using what he learned from his returned memories seeks a happy memory. The happiest one he can find.

He remembers grasping Draco's hand and pulling him onto the broom. Can feel a ghost of his arms wrapped around him so tight it hurt. From that, more memories emerge, so that his head fills with every moment they shared from the very first when they were just eleven until the most recent. It could have been hours or days ago now, but every detail is etched into Harry’s brain.

He remembers the arch of Draco's eyebrow as he catches Harry’s eyes. The movement of his lips as he sounded out each word they exchanged and how his tongue curled around Harry name. Harry remembers the dimples that appear in Draco's cheeks when he smiles and how the light catches on his hair. He has memorised the way Draco brushes back the loose lock by running his left hand through the platinum strands and the tiny frown that forms when it falls into his eye once more.

The vision tries to slip away as the darkness consumes him once again spreading to cover his body, but Harry holds onto it firmly and lets the emotions tied to it rise up inside him.

In a breathless whisper, he mutters the incantation, and the room fills with bright white light as his Patronus’s new form emerges and banishes the shadows as it wraps itself protectively around Harry.

Reaching out a hand in awe, Harry runs his fingers over the smooth scales that shimmer like pearls while also basking in the warmth that chases the chill from his skin. Wisps of white mist seep from the dragon’s nostrils as it stares fixedly at Voldemort and even without being able to see his expression Harry knows Voldemort is afraid.

Harry drags himself to his feet, his head spinning for a moment before settling and baring his teeth in a snarl commands his Patronus to attack. The dragon uncoils from him slightly as it spreads its enormous wings, the top ridges brushing the ceiling before it opens its jaw wide and breaths out a billowing whitish-blue cloud of light.

The shadow form of Voldemort rears back, letting out an inhuman shriek as it battles against the Patronus’s shield. Shifting through the air it circles behind Harry and hisses like a snake.

“Enough, you are finished!” Voldemort roars as his red eyes flash from his black form.

“I’m just getting started,” Harry jeers back in reply as he spins to face Voldemort his Patronus dispersing and then reforming to face its foe too.

The coldness has been evicted by the ghostly looking dragons presence and the love that fills Harry’s soul. Drawing strength from it, Harry takes a step forward, and the edges of his mouth turn up as the shadow lord takes a step back.

“You’re nothing. A ghost, a phantom and I’m not afraid of you. This time I’m going to make sure I send you straight to hell where you belong.”

“Never. I shall have my vengeance and Hogwarts will crumble to dust.” 

Harry glances down as the ground trembles and cracks under his feet. His eyes scan the great hall and grow wide as the walls shift so that the stones tumble down to the floor. The torches in their brackets flicker until they go out and the enchanted ceiling turns black without even a single star to be seen.

Voldemort laughs as Harry takes in the destruction around him, the darkness that is gathering until he is surrounded by it. The dragon snaps at the tendrils that creep too close and its tail flicks with agitation just in front of Harry’s feet.

The years seem to pass by Harry as he watches his home deteriorate and the infection of Voldemort's influence spreads further leaving holes in the floor and walls around them both.

His hand around his wand aches as he tightens his fists, blunt nails digging into his palms but he grits his teeth through the pain and lashes out again with his Patronus. The dragon opens its mouth and lets out another blast of light, but the darkness surges forward swallowing it before it can reach Voldemort. Angry Harry tries again and again, but each time the light grows dimmer as his focus weakens on his happy memory.

“Your pet can’t protect you. Here I hold all the power. Here I am a god,” Voldemort declares as he throws his arms out.

Harry frowns, his anger sinking away along with his Patronus so that he is soon alone in the centre of the room. Something about what Voldemort said doesn’t sit right with him. They are in Harry’s body, his mind and soul, so surely Harry is the god of this place.

In here, he has control of his imagination and his emotions. Of the very air they breathe, and the time that passes, all of it can be bent to his will, not Voldemort’s. He might have spent years with a piece of Voldemort trapped inside him, but he has always been the one to choose his destiny, to make all the decisions and chart his course.

He looks away from Voldemort and studies the crumbling walls, before lifting his free hand and pushing with his mind. He’s not using magic or a spell, but the chipped stones reform and return to their places, leaving the walls as smooth and untouched as before.

“No!”

Harry ignores Voldemort’s cry and lifts his hand higher, and the ceiling clears to show the blue sky and a blazing summer sun that pushes back the shadows as they shrink in fear of the light he has created.

Voldemort doesn’t speak again and instead howls in rage as he charges Harry with sharp black claws. With a tilt of his head, Harry raises an eyebrow and with an expression of almost boredom, raises a shield around himself. Voldemort hits it hard, his hands slashing at the barrier but it doesn’t leave a mark or scratch on the clear surface.

“It’s over Tom,” Harry whispers tiredly as he raises his wand and directs it towards Voldemort's face. Red eyes look back at him as the shadows peel away to leave a small boy wearing a sullen frown. The boy screams and once more the Dark Lord stands before Harry with his skeletal frame and paper white skin and reptilian features.

“Avada,” Harry begins, but the remains of Voldemort shrink into smoke that then flees from Harry into the halls of Hogwarts. With little choice Harry walks forward to hunt down his ghost and finally put it to rest.


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The prompt word for today is: Miles

Harry walks forward and straight through the wall, the stones melting around him as he treks through miles of memories until he comes to the earliest one he can remember and his very first encounter with Voldemort.

A woman stands before him, her red hair trailing messily down her back as she throws her arms out before him until a flash of green light hits her. Sadly Harry looks down at green eyes the same shape and colour as his. She was so young, her fair skin smooth with only a few laughter lines. It’s hard to turn away from her and face the monster before him and the wand pointing at him, but Harry doesn’t even blink as he stares down Voldemort. So when the second jet of light comes towards him, Harry opens his arms and embraces it like an old friend.

The magic dances over his skin, and while it is an unpleasant feeling, it can’t truly touch him.

“The first time we met, I didn’t know who you were, what you were. I know better now, and you can’t hurt me anymore,” Harry says his voice echoing as his eyes blaze and Harry sends the magic back at the figure before him.

The light tears through Voldemort, ripping his body into pieces that vanish to leave a spectre. Less substantial than a ghost, Voldemort is a smear in the air and inhumanly shaped. To Harry, he looks twisted, a malformed mutation of what a person should be.

“Is a life without love really that destructive?” Harry asks, his tone holding a trace of pity.

Voldemort hisses in reply and flees again leading Harry once more to chase him down as he speeds through memories of his time with his Aunt and Uncle.

He tries not to look too closely at them preferring to forget their ignorance and bitterness in favour of reminding himself of the family he has now. He needs to get back to them, but first, he must fight and keep fighting until nothing is left of Voldemort's soul.

Entering the next memory, Harry finds himself in the forest, it’s dark and the air damp. He takes a moment just to breathe in the crisp air and focus before stepping forward onto the rotting foliage under his feet. A younger Draco walks beside him, lantern raised to light the way until the unicorn comes into view and the hunched figure feasting on its blood. Draco screams as he drops the light and runs but just like before Harry stands frozen as the creature looks up at him with silver blood dribbling over its chin.

As it charges him, Harry once more stands firm and opens his arms wide and before Voldemort can get within a few feet a centaur crashes from the bushes, front hooves rearing up to come down on Voldemort forcing him back.

“Did no one ever protect you, Tom? Step between you and a threat not out of fear or the desire for power but because they wanted to keep you safe?”

“I don’t need protection. I am not weak,” Voldemort snaps back, his mouth still shining with the blood of the unicorn in the pale moonlight.

“Are you sure about that?” Harry asks as the centaur takes aim with his bow, but the arrow buries into the ground as Voldemort runs away. Harry knows he’s afraid and that he has begun to realise how weak he is here. Soon Voldemort will try and find a way out of Harry’s mind and his body only to come back again and again. Harry closes down his mind with what little occlumency skill he possesses to hold Voldemort within him. He is determined to end this here and now before Voldemort has a chance to hurt anyone else or grow stronger once more.

With the next memory in mind, a door forms before him and Harry opens it, entering a room that contains only a beautifully decorated mirror. The words inscribed in its frame, a warning to all who might be tempted by its power.

Harry has never wanted power, and without hesitation, he walks forward and gazes into the mirror of Erised. The surface ripples for a moment and his refection changes until it is holding out the philosopher’s stone. The red gem gleams in the torchlight as if heated inside by fire, but Harry shakes his head. He can’t be tempted by riches and eternity, living forever would be a lonely existence.

The image shifts and around him stands his family the way it had when he was eleven, his parents proudly beside him wearing gentle smiles.

Once more Harry shakes his head, “They are gone, I can’t have them back, but I can remember them. I can remember how much they loved me and share that with my new family.”

The people around him shift so that Lily is replaced with Molly, the gentle smile on her face so much like his mothers. Arthur stands beside her, taking James place and runs a hand over his balding head in a way that is reminiscent of Harry’s father. The Cousins and Uncles and Aunts become Ron and his siblings.

Bill grins as he ruffles Charlie's hair while George throws an arm over Percy who rolls his eyes but smiles anyway. Ginny sticks out her tongue at him as Ron holds out a hand and takes Hermione's pulling her into the frame with a giant smile that lights up his face. Harry’s hand tingles as Draco slowly appears in the image his hand linked with Harry’s and a smirk on his face. He leans a little closer and presses a kiss to Harry’s cheek which makes him smile in fondness into the mirror.

“That’s all I want, and I have it already. I have a family that loves me and someone I love who might even love me back. I have a reason to live, but what’s yours?”

The mirror ripples once again, and Harry’s family disappears, leaving his reflection alone once more. He watches his expression twist into a smug smile as his green eyes turn red and magic visible pulses around him in waves of pure power. His reflection conjures a throne and gracefully takes a seat sitting up straight as it rises higher on a pile of bodies.

Harry steps back to take in more of the image before him and then lets out a small sigh.

“Your desires will never be anything more than a dream in a mirror, unreachable. You have wasted away seeking a fantasy, nothing good can come from this Tom.”

The reflection frowns at his words and steps down from its throne to stand angrily before Harry. In reply, Harry lifts a hand, and the reflection copies, a flash of worry on its face as their hands' touch and the reflection’s begins to burn. Harry closes his eyes to the expression of anguish on his own face and presses his other hand to the glass, right where his heart would sit. When he looks again, the mirror is empty, but he knows it still isn’t over yet. There are more memories and more fights to win, and he pulls back his hand only to punch forward and shatter the mirror.

With his head held high Harry walks through the empty frame and comes out in the chamber of secrets. A younger and more human-looking Tom is there to greet him, and the basilisk rears up behind him with a long low hiss.

“Your pet can’t protect you,” Harry tells Voldemort parroting back his earlier words.

Tom riddle’s handsome features twist into something ugly as he hisses out instructions for the giant snake to kill. The beast lowers it’s head as it moves closer, preparing to strike, it’s tongue flicking out to taste the air. Harry just smiles as he meets the snake's yellow eyes and keeps moving forward while the snake remains frozen in place.

With a wave of Harry’s hand the basilisk’s skin dissolves until only bones are left and it collapses into a pile on the floor around Tom. Harry’s smile fades as he sees the fear concealed behind Tom’s blank expression, and he lifts a hand to run it through his hair.

“It’s over Tom and death is not the end but the beginning of a new adventure.”

“Death is for mere mortals and I will not let it take me from this world,” Tom bellows and his voice echos in the large chamber.

Harry keeps walking forward, pausing for only a moment to yank one of the snakes teeth from its skull before heading for Tom. He can see Voldemort trying to turn away from his gaze, but like the basilisk he is trapped in place unable to run. As Harry lifts the fang above his head, he whispers out one word that makes Voldemort’s anger only grow.

“Sorry.”

Plunging the tooth into Tom’s chest, Harry then moves back watching as Voldemort screams, fighting to lift his hands and pull the fang free. Even if he succeeded the venom is already racing through his body in the blood being pumped by his heart as it struggles to keep beating.

“This is not the end of me, I will come back,” Voldemort promises as his image fades to leave the tiny remains of his weakened sprite which vanishes into thin air.

It’s tempting for Harry to think that it’s over, but he can still sense Voldemort inside him. A strange sensation like the one he has been feeling for the last month at Hogwarts. He knows where to go next and just for a moment his chest clenches in fear. He doesn’t want to return there, but his life and that of his friends depends on it. So like the solider is was raised to be Harry firms his spine and his resolve before slipping through his memories and back to the graveyard.

He comes into the memory tied to the gravestone of Tom Riddle Senior, the bonds holding him tightly in place. Voldemort is rising from the cauldron bubbling before him, able-bodied once more as his death eaters cheer around him.

“I will always rise, stronger than before,” Voldemort brags as he climbs from the cauldron and stands before Harry. He reaches out a finger, pressing it to Harry’s scar as he smiles.

Harry blinks at the icy touch, but not even a twinge of pain enters his head, “You have always been weak, you don’t have the heart to keep you going only selfish ambition.”

Voldemort retreats with a sneer, “What do I need with a heart, all I need is a body and my mind, and I can rule the world.”

The night grows colder as the wind picks up, worming its way under Harry’s clothing to cause goosebumps to spread over his skin.

“And you’ll be alone, forever,” Harry whispers through his chattering teeth, “Look, and you’ll see.”

Voldemort turns from him and watches as his supporters in unison step back, their bodies becoming transparent until they fade entirely away.

“I can get more lackeys,” Voldemort replies with a wave of his hand as he faces Harry once more.

“But you’ve never had a friend.”

A tear rolls down Harry’s cheek as the bonds fall from him and he rises to lean on the old headstone. Harry reaches out a hand, the open palm up in expectation.

“Will you greet death like an old friend Tom, he’s here for you.”

From behind Harry, the form of death rises up, his scythe held in one hand while he holds out the other. Death’s bony hand reaches a little further out than Harry’s, but it is also open and waiting to grasp onto Voldemort's and take him away.

“I don’t need friends either, and death will not touch me.”

With a cry of outrage, Voldemort spins on the spot disapparating away to hide once again in Harry’s mind. Rubbing at his eyes Harry dries away his tears and kneels beside the body of Cedric, closing the lids gently with his fingertips.

“Take care of him,” he tells death before swallowing down the pain provoked by the memory and allowing himself a moment to feel. It hurts, but it only reminds him why he has to keep going regardless of how tired he feels.

Closing his eyes, Harry concentrates on the next memory knowing that with each one he is closer to the end. When he opens them again he is in the Ministry of Magic atrium with the fountain of magical brethren before him and Voldemort preparing for battle with his wand raised.

“Dumbledore is not here this time to save you, boy,” Voldemort taunts as he sends out a jet of green light. The golden house-elf statue springs from the fountain and blocks the spell, shattering into a hundred fragments the bounce over the floor until they come to rest at Harry’s feet. Reaching down Harry scoops up one of the pieces and blinks back tears as it reminds him of Dobby’s sacrifice.

The others that made up the statue have also come to life and are battling Voldemort. The wizard losing its head as it did during the real fight between Voldemort and Dumbledore, while the centaur is lying in two pieces on the floor. The back half of his body kicking while the other half tries to fire an arrow with a broken bow. The witch is holding her own until Voldemort hits it with a bolt of magic that makes it melt into a puddle, that the goblin slips in and he is blasted to pieces as he tries to rise up again.

Harry gazes around at the carnage, he’d always hated that statue and how it depicted wizards and witches above the others. He had met house elves more nobel that the most powerful of wizards such as the one stood before him.

Voldemort smiles before returning to a shadow and racing towards Harry, but this time Harry is prepared, and he won’t let Voldemort get further into his head than he already is.

“I still pity you,” he says as he calls up the water from the fountain using it as a shield between them.

“Because you are weak. You let foolish emotions soften your soul, but I will cleanse you of that once I take control. Think about it, all that pain wiped away as if it had never been.”

Harry can feel the power in Voldemort's words and how they attempt to draw him in, but they are lies. His emotions do not make him weak, they make him human and give him his greatest strength. He has the ability to feel, to care and to forgive.

“I think I’d rather keep the pain and my emotions. They made me who I am. Compassion gave me friends, love gave me a family and forgiveness gave me a chance at happiness that I almost missed.”

The wall of water shifts until it is a row of human-sized figures holding hands in a barrier before Harry.

“Anger got you fearer, greed got you hated and left you with nothing worth saving,” Harry finishes as the water surges towards Voldemort washing away the darkness and containing him in a sphere that floats a few feet from the floor.

“It’s over Tom, you can blame your childhood, or the life you never had but hurting people was your choice, and I won’t let you come back to continue it.”

Voldemort twists in the water, fighting against it’s swirling pull until he manages to break free. Water splashing on the floor around him Voldemort coughs and gasps before looking up at Harry with his burning red eyes.

“I am Lord Voldemort and I will not be defeated by a childish brat!” The words echo in the room, bouncing back to ring in Harry’s ears as a wave of power is released from Voldemort. Harry crosses his arms before his face as the magic hits him and pushes him back so that he has to bend his knees to keep his balance. Not giving Harry a moment to fight back, Voldemort continues his attack lashing out at Harry with his bare hands like an animal backed into a corner and desperately throwing everything it has at the threat before it.

A nail trails down the side of Harry’s face, and he feels the blood that runs from the wound, while he blocks the blows as best as he can. In a panic Harry’s mind tries to find a way to fight back. The scenery flickers around them as they jump from memory to memory until Harry is flying beside Hagrid in a sidecar attached to Sirius's motorbike.

Voldemort flies alongside them, his form smoky as shadows trail behind him and he reaches out to grasp at Harry. Harry flinches back as a blur of white soars between Voldemort and him, and a bittersweet smile appears on Harry’s face as the snowy owl circles and dives for Voldemort’s face, talons stretched out into deadly claws. Turning away from Harry Voldemort throws his hand out towards the bird sending a dart of darkness at it. Harry chokes back a sob as the owl is hit and begins to spin down to the ground. No matter the time that has passed watching the death of his friend sends a lance of pain into Harry’s chest as his heart cracks.

“Weak,” Voldemort mutters disgustedly as he reaches for Harry once more.

Harry blinks the tears from his eyes and meets Voldemort's, “You’re wrong.”

Once more a white blur swoops between them as Hedwig dives again, her form growing bigger and brighter until a dragon takes her place and with a flick of its mighty tail knocks Voldemort from the air.

Harry follows him down jumping from the sidecar onto the dragons back and riding it through the ceiling of the great hall to return where they started this fight and where it would end, this time for certain.

Voldemort is climbing to his feet as Harry lands and slips from the dragon’s back, letting it vanish once he is on the ground.

“Give up Tom. You’re not getting out of here, its time for you to cross over.”

Voldemort snarls at him, his face made more hideous by his anger while he struggles to stand up straight.

“I will see you rot in hell, Harry Potter!” he screams out as he points his wand at Harry.

“Probably. Save me a seat when you get there, Tom,” Harry replies as he lifts his own wand.

Their spells collide, green against red as they lock eyes of opposing colours. However, it barely takes any time before Voldemort is visibly struggling to keep his spell going as Harry’s light grows brighter and stronger changing from red to white.

Voldemort silently screams as the light reaches him, his body thrown back by the blast so that he is left lying motionless, just like last time. With measured steps, Harry moves closer until he can look down at the person who tried to ruin his life and only succeeded in making it more difficult.

The relief that washes over him is heard in the sigh he lets out and the way his shoulders relax. Harry used to hate Voldemort for all the things that he robbed Harry of including his parents, but he just can’t dredge up even a trace of loathing for the creature before him. Honestly, Tom Riddle was nothing but a child failed by everyone around him, and Harry could have so easily become just like him.

“Goodbye Tom,” Harry whispers as he waves his hand and removes the last of Voldemort, the body at his feet turning to a shadow that drifts up in wisps until it vanishes.

Regardless of what may have been it’s over, and Harry’s mind once more feels like his own. Exhausted from his fight, both physically and emotionally Harry closes his eyes and lets himself float away into a dream filled with dragons and friends and a boy with white-blond hair and a smirk that speaks of trouble.


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The prompt word for today is: Flowers

“Wake up, please wake up.”

The voice whispers around Harry, soft and insistent, drawing him from his dream so that he gradually drifts towards consciousness, but tiredness drags him back again, and the voice fades into nothing.

***********************************

When Harry does manage to stir awake, it is to the sound of silence and the scent of flowers. Blinking his eyes open he stares at a collection of bright colours before him, reds and yellows mixing together to make pinks and oranges in a confusing display. His hand reaches out towards them, but the muscles in his arm burn and ache, forcing it to drop back onto the mattress. Harry rolls onto his back, the pillow under his head cradling it even as it begins to pound, everything hurts, and Harry doesn’t try and move again. Instead, he focuses on remembering what happened and trying to make sense of it all.

Had it all been a dream, a new nightmare that invaded his worried brain due to the shadow hunting him around Hogwarts. He needs to talk to someone and find out what happened.

“Hello,” he croaks out, his throat dry, and he licks his cracked lips and tries again. His voice coming out a little louder this time and he hears the tap of footsteps coming closer. More light floods into the area around him and a blurry figure leans over him as a cool hand touches his forehead softly.

“I thought I told you to take care, Mr Potter,” Madam Pomfrey says, the effect of her firm tone ruined by the gentle way she brushes his fridge back.

“What happened?” he asks frowning as he tries to focus on her face and see her better. He feels her hand move and then returns slipping his glasses onto his face allowing him to see the worry lines around her eyes and mouth.

“The Headmistress will explain, for now, I have some potions for you to take.”

His face must have shown his dislike and makes her lips purse as she shakes her head at him. “None of that, you’ll feel better for them. Trust me.”

Unable to resist Harry opens his mouth and swallows down the potions, she pours into his mouth. As the aches fade, Harry forgets the bitter taste on his tongue and lets out a sigh of pleasure.

“I have some nutrition potions for you too unless you feel up to eating?”

“Food please ma’am,” Harry mutters as he shifts in the bed to sit up slightly.

“Very well, I’ll have an elf bring up some soup for you. Don’t eat too fast or you’ll throw it up,” she warns and heads back out through the curtain around Harry’s bed.

“Madam Pomfrey,” Harry calls and she pauses to look back at him. “What day is it?”

“It’s Tuesday, the third of November,” she tells him before vanishing behind the curtain.

Harry does the maths in a second he’s been here for four days; his friends must be worried sick and Draco. Harry never got the chance to see him at the party and hopes he knows Harry didn’t miss it on purpose which is unlikely since his latest misfortune is probably the hottest piece of gossip at the school right now.

As Harry turns that over in his head, an elf appears with a steaming bowl of soup placed on a silver tray. The smell makes Harry’s mouth water and his stomach growl, days without eating has given him a large appetite. He quickly thanks the elf as the tray is levitated onto his lap and he snatches up his spoon to begin eating. The first bite is a little too warm, so it burns his tongue, but the taste of the thick creamy liquid makes up for that. After a few mouthfuls, he remembers Madam Pomfrey's warning and slowly eats the rest before leaning back on his pillows full and content.

His eyes falling closed, and he’s somewhere between awake and sleep when he hears footsteps nearby.

“Hello Headmistress,” Harry mutters as he opens his eyes to see McGonagall's frowning face and strict stance. As if unable to prevent it, her expression softens, and she lowers herself into the chair beside his bed.

“Why whenever there is trouble, does it always involve you?” she asks in exasperated fondness.

“Just lucky I guess,” Harry teases back and delights in the twitch of McGonagall's mouth into a smile that just as quickly vanishes. Recognising that now isn’t the time for jokes Harry matches her grim expression and asks the question that has been burning in his mind since he woke up.

“Did he really come back, Voldemort?”

McGonagall nods, her eyes shining with sadness, but no tears fall as she clears her throat and holds her head a little higher.

“How? He died in the war. Is he still here?” Harry’s voice breaks as he speaks while fear churns his stomach, and he tries to climb out of bed.

McGonagall reaches out and places her hand on his shoulder, “He is gone, and this time for good, I promise you that Harry.”

His body slumps at her words, and his pounding heart slowly returns to a steady pace in his chest.

“How?”

McGonagall doesn’t answer straight away, bringing her hand back to her lap; she fixes her skirts before meeting his eyes.

“I believe Miss Granger told you of vengeful sprites after discovering them while researching your ghost.”

Harry nods, remaining silent to encourage her to continue.

“Her hypothesis was correct though they are rarely seen in this day and age. Did she explain how they are created?”

Harry frowns as he tries to remember, “No, she just told me about the different types.”

“Vengeful sprites are created by strong negative emotions, revenge, hatred and even fear. Voldemort feared death and longed for revenge, and those emotions combined with the magic of Hogwarts gave the remaining spark of his soul a way to hold on to the edges of life.”

“So it was a ghost, his ghost,” Harry says interrupting her. McGonagall gives him a firm look and shakes her head.

“No, a ghost is the embodiment of someone’s complete soul and gives them the ability to have a form from the moment of their death. Voldemort was a shade, a mere wisp of energy with only a thin grasp on our world to prevent him crossing over.”

“Then how did he get stronger? How was he able to attack me?”

“Calm yourself, Mr Potter,” McGonagall lightly scolds him and reluctantly Harry presses his mouth closed and swallows back the rest of his questions.

“As I said, he used the magic of Hogwarts. The castle has its own magic, soaked into the stones over generations and he drew on it and tied himself to the school. Miss Granger informed me that she told you about how poltergeists differ to ghosts and Voldemort relied on a similar method.”

Here she pauses and gives Harry a chance to absorb the information he has been given.

“So he became like Peeves, feeding on the magic to give him more power,” Harry guesses.

“In the most basic of senses that is correct. By drawing on Hogwarts, he gained power and his presence began to be noticed by those that are more sensitive to it, such as the elves that are tied in service to the castle itself and the ghosts who are closer to the other side.”

“Why did I feel it when my friends couldn’t?” Harry already has an idea of why, but he wants to hear it from McGonagall.

“You and Voldemort were tied together by the piece of his soul that once resided inside you and your brief brush with death allowed you to sense him whenever he was close by. Regardless it is unlikely he would have become so powerful this soon had it not been for the time of year.”

“Halloween,” Harry whispers, his voice hollow, “When the lines between life and death blur,” he continues remembering a line from a book Hermione quoted to him.

“Indeed. With the barriers that held him back from true life weakened, he slipped in and searched for a way to remain. A living body that he could reside within.”

“He tried to possess me. He said something about having my body and all that was needed was to take over my mind.”

“You spoke to him?” McGonagall asks, her interest disguised by the calmness of her tone, but the fire in her eyes exposed the truth.

“Yes, we fought. Over and over in my memories, until I eventually won,” Harry explains before going over the battle they had and how at each stage, Voldemort grew more fearful. Finishing his tale he looks straight into McGonagall's eyes and asks her once again, “Are you sure he’s really gone?”

He can hear the childlike quality in his voice and can’t help feeling like one asking a parent if the boogieman is gone from under the bed.

“Yes, I am sure. Madam Pomfrey has checked you over carefully for even the smallest trace over the days you have spent in her care. We are also sure that he no longer resides in the castle now our poltergeist has returned. Seems that Voldemort's drain on Hogwarts affected Peeves’s ability to manifest until he grew strong enough to block him from appearing altogether.”

A smile spreads over Harry’s face at the news; he’d take Peeves over the shadow any day of the week.

“You will recover fully from Voldemort's attempt to take control, but it will take time, so I suggest you resign yourself to a long stay here,” McGonagall tells him as she rises from the chair.

“Will my friends be allowed to visit me?”

The pain potion is lessening his body’s aches but hasn’t obliterated them and Harry isn’t in a rush to get out of bed anymore as his muscles loudly protest him sitting up. However, he’ll go insane cut off from Ron and Hermione and everyone else.

“I’m sure they will be here to visit you later. It is only Madam Profrey’s insistence that has kept them from remaining permanently at your side.”

Harry grins at her words and the fondness that laces them and looks forward to telling Ron and Hermione all about his adventure and discover what he has missed.

“Get some rest while you can. They are bound to have questions for you, but your recovery is the top priority.”

“Yes Headmistress,” Harry answers as he shuffles awkwardly back so that he is lying down once more. Taking off his glasses, he’s about to close his eyes when a thought occurs to him, and he stops McGonagall from leaving to ask another question.

“Do you know who was protecting me, the one who cast the blue light and appeared in my head?”

The voice from the orb had been too soft for him to recognise, but he assumes that they must have been near him when he was attacked and battling Voldemort.

“Your friends mentioned a blue light, but I’m afraid I don’t know much about it.”

“Then who found me and brought me here?” Harry tries instead.

“Miss Granger and Mr Weasley discovered you. They became concerned when you went missing from the Halloween party and went in search of you.”

“Oh, thank you, Headmistress.”

McGonagall bows her head at him in reply before leaving through the curtain and leaving Harry, wondering if he will ever discover the identity of the blue orb.


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Prompt word for today is: Clue

Harry smacks his lips at the foul taste of the potion in his mouth, but he doesn't complain, aware that it is healing the damage done to his body. As lovely as it is in the hospital wing, he doesn’t want to be stuck here longer than necessary.

“I’ll have another pain potion for you in a few hours, and then we’ll slowly lower the dose over the next few days,” Madam Pomfrey tells him as she straights the blanket over his lap and fluffs up his pillow.

“Exactly how long do I have to stay here?” Harry asks, trying not to sound rude or ungrateful.

“Until you’re better and that will be sooner if you rest and take your medicine,” she replies a little sharply.

“Right.”

Harry settles back into the bed, keeping as still as possible so not to agitate his aches and pains. In the few hours since Mcgonagall’s visit the pain potion has begun to wane and moving is becoming more difficult.

“We’re here to see-Harry!” Hermione shouts as her eyes lock with his, and she races forward to hug him.

“Ouch.”

“Sorry, sorry,” she mutters and moves back quickly. Her hands clasped before her while she continues to smile.

“I’m just a bit fragile at the moment, so be gentle with me alright,” Harry jokes. His eyes move from her to Ron, and he smiles brightly at them both.

“I’m not surprised. Bloody mental what happened,” Ron says, snapping his mouth closed when Madam Pomfrey gives him a dark look for his language.

“I’ll give you some privacy to talk, but only for an hour, Mr Potter needs peace and quiet to rest,” Madam Pomfrey informs them before leaving.

“So you guys know what happened then?” His friends nod, and as Hermione sits on the end of his bed, Ron pulls the chair in closer before sitting down.

“Yeah, I almost had a heart attack when McGonagall told us. Voldemort gives a whole new meaning to the word stubborn,” Ron says clearly trying to lighten the mood and succeeds in pulling a chuckle from Harry.

“You don’t know the half of it mate,” Harry says before launching into the tale about their battle in his mind. A fight for ownership not only of his body but for his very soul, it seemed.

“That’s frightful,” Hermione gasps as she clenches her hands on her robes.“The only thing I don’t understand is how she knew that it was Voldemort? The ghost could have been anyone, but she knew the moment that she saw you.”

Harry’s brow furrows at Hermione's question as he tries to find a logical answer. However, he hadn’t known the identity of the ghost until Voldemort tried to possess him on Halloween.

“Someone must have told her,” Harry mutters out loud while his mind continues to search for an explanation.

“But who?”

“Obviously whoever that blue orb is,” Ron says as he reaches past the flowers on Harry’s side table to pick up a box of Bertie Botts Beans. His eyes briefly meet Harry’s who gives him a distracted nod at his silent request, and Ron opens the sweets plucking out one and popping it in his mouth.

“But I still don’t have a clue who that is, and when I asked McGonagall she said she didn’t know much about the blue orb except what Hermione had told her about it.”

Hermione frowns at his words, “It’s always possible she was lying. If it is another student and they wish to remain anonymous, there is a chance she would respect that and not tell you.”

“unlikely, I mean even she has a soft spot for Harry, and after everything he’s just been through he has a right to know.”

Hermione shrugs at Ron, but it’s clear she agrees with him, but Harry feels differently. If the blue orb really doesn’t want to be uncovered, then is it really Harry’s right to know. They helped him, and while he would love a chance to thank them he knows from experience how embarrassing it is to have someone’s gratitude just for doing the right thing.

“We’ll figure it out, but for now I’m more interested in finding out what happened after I left the party.”

As if a switch had been hit Hermione suddenly scowls and Harry finds a finger waving in front of his nose.

“That was a stupid thing to do Harry. I can’t believe after everything you wandered off alone. Luna even told us she warned you about doing so.”

Harry flinches back from the sharp tone, letting out a hiss of pain as his muscles tighten and relax rapidly.

“It was less a warning and more Luna being herself. Part of me thought she might have said it for effect and to get into the Halloween spirit,” he lies, and his eyes drop to his hands fidgeting with his blanket.

“Still can’t believe you didn’t tell us mate. You really need to do something about your habit of running off without backup.”

Ron holds up his hand when Harry opens his mouth to speak.

“I know you do it to protect us, but honestly you don’t have to do things on your own anymore. We’re your friends.”

“I know,” Harry mutters his stomach filling with guilt. After his battle it’s more evident than ever how much he needs them and the rest of his adoptive family’s support, they are the most crucial thing in his life, and he should consider their feelings before he acts.

“We’re not trying to nag or upset you Harry, but you scared us. If not for Luna mentioning that you hadn’t returned with Draco we wouldn’t have known you had gone or where.”

At the mention of Draco's name Harry’s head shoots up, “What happened to Draco? Did he not come to the party? Did something happen?”

“Chill out, mate before you hurt yourself.” Ron's eyes trail over Harry, “Hurt yourself more.”

“Draco didn’t turn up for the party, Luna explained he got cold feet but…”

“But what?” Harry shouts reaching out for her.

“He’s looked miserable for the last few days and won’t talk to anyone, even Luna says he won’t speak to her much. I think he feels partly to blame for you being attacked since you left the party to look for him,” Hermione explains softly.

“What! But Voldemort would have attacked me anyway. He wouldn’t have cared about whether I was at the party or not.”

“We know that, but Malfoy doesn’t, and it might be a good idea for you to tell him that, though it won’t be easy. Every time we’ve asked him to come with us to visit you, he’s refused, but you're awake now so that might change.”

“Draco hasn’t visited me?” Harry's voice is small, and a tiny pain blooms in his chest at the news.

“Don’t Harry, I guarantee it isn’t because he doesn’t care but quite the opposite. Watching you lie there and not being able to do anything isn’t an easy task, and if he were feeling guilty then it would have been even worse,” Hermione reassures him as she reaches out and takes his hand.

“Yeah, sorry for putting you both through it again,” Harry mumbles with a small smile.

“Just don’t do it again,” Ron tells him as he reaches up and ruffles Harry’s hair gently. Harry is thankful that he’s aware enough not to be too rough with him att he moment as his headache is gradually getting worse and even sitting up is making several parts of his body throb with dull pain.

“Sure thing, mum,” Harry says sarcastically, “Anyway what else have I missed.”

Hermione fills him in on the minor bits of gossip but at he predicted his newest near-death experience is the highlight of the week. When she mentions all the classes he’s missing Harry lets out a long groan. So much for keeping up with his school work but he’ll have time to catch up while he recovers since he can’t do much else.

As Hermione is promising to collect and bring his work for him tomorrow Madam Pomfrey returns and shoos his friends off, with a firm demand that they wait until the morning before telling anyone that Harry is awake.

“I will not have a bunch of rowdy Gryffindors descending on my wing wanting to see Mr potter. They may visit during the allowed times or face severe consequences.”

She doesn’t tell them what the consequences are, but none of them is brave enough to ask and simply accept that they will be unpleasant. With a weak wave Harry says goodbye to Ron and Hermione and actually asks Madam Pomfrey for his potions to remove the pain. She complies and a few minutes later Harry is fast asleep.

********************************

In his dream Harry chases after the blue orb, but no matter how fast he runs, it remains frustratingly out of reach. A gentle voice whispers to him to ‘come on’ and ‘don’t give up’. Spurred on Harry lunges forward and for a moment he thinks he has it as his hand tightens around something but the orb dances away, and the sensation on his hands disappears, slipping from his fingers.

Stirring awake into the darkness of night Harry curls his hand but finds only the soft cotton of his blanket. Harry narrows his eyes as he considers the dream he had been having, and the sweet voice that whispered to him.

Earlier, he had decided not to seek out the person behind the blue orb, but clearly his mind is unwilling to let the mystery remain unsolved. All he needs is a clue, and although he racks his still tired and sleepy brain, it only gives him information he already knows, and that is useless while he is under orders to rest.

He doesn’t know what the blue light is other than some type of magic and he can’t even begin to think of how it managed to get into his head during his battle with Voldemort unless it was a fragment of his imagination, a part of him trying to push him to win. In fact the only lead he has is Myrtle, and even if he could reach her there’s a chance she won’t tell him anything.

The pain potion is wearing off, and Harry knows he won’t be able to sleep for a while, so he keeps thinking about the blue light and remembers the fairy which leads to thoughts of Draco. He really does hope Draco isn’t blaming himself for Harry’s attack and vows to tell him that the first chance he gets. In truth all he wants right now is to wrap Draco in a huge hug, aches and pain be damned.

Unable to achieve that he lets himself fantasise about Draco and the possibility of them becoming closer. Sharing shy glances that build into deliberately accidental touches until they can’t maintain the distance between them and their lips touch in a kiss. Slow and sweet or fast and rough Harry doesn’t know and doesn’t care, but he’s sure Draco will taste of the lollipops he favours.

Lost in his own head about the future he hopes to have, Harry has forgotten about the blue orb as the pictures in his head grow more sexual in nature and he reaches under the blanket to stroke his hardening cock. His muscles protest even the smallest of movements, but he can’t stop now he’s started, so he ignores the pain and focuses only on Draco.

He comes with Draco's name on his lips, and after cleaning up the mess with a quick cleaning charm he lets his eyes fall shut and with one last yawn slips back into sleep.


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The prompt word for today is: Card

The days have passed in a blur of homework and taking potions with only the visits from Harry's friends to brighten his time in the hospital wing. Currently, he’s about two seconds from throwing his quill across the room and giving up on the potions essay he’s failing to write.

His eyes move over to the collection of get well cards that cover the small table beside him. A large bag is beside it filled with even more, all from fans, people he has never met and don’t know the truth of what happened. He only opened a few of them before finding them deeply disturbing and now collects them all into the bag for the house elves to burn at the end of the day. However not one of the cards proudly being displayed from friends and loved ones are from Draco.

It’s been five days, and Draco still hasn’t been to see him and his avoidance is driving Harry mental. He’s tried getting messages to him through Ron and Hermione but Draco refuses to listen to them or at least he never answers when they do talk to him.

Under Madam Pomfrey's care, Harry’s body has recovered quickly with his muscles only beginning to burn after a few hours of movement, and he even has the strength to walk again which has been a blessing though he has been told to avoid walking too much and only under supervision.

Regardless Madam Pomfrey has told him that he’ll be returning to classes in the next few days and the last thing he wants is to see Draco again only to be shunned. An image of Draco's grey eyes turning cold as they meet his has haunted his dreams and replaced any nightmares he might have had about his recent attack or the war.

The sound of footsteps pulls Harry away from the dark path his mind is heading down, and he smiles as Luna’s head appears between the curtains.

“Hello Harry, you look much better,” she says before skipping forward and dropping onto the end of his bed.

“Thanks, I’m feeling better. How are you?” Harry asks as he moves aside his textbook and parchment. If he’s honest, the only thing he wants to ask her is where Draco is, but he’s too polite to say it.

“I’m fine, but I know you’re not really interested in that. Draco is still not talking to anyone, and I’m worried about him too,” Luna answers with a sweet smile and sharp eyes. She knows without him having to say, but he should have expected that and he smiles back at her for saving him from having to make small talk before he can ask about Draco.

“So you haven’t managed to talk sense into him? is he really feeling that guilt over my attack?”

Luna tilts her head slightly as her eyes drift away to stare at a point behind Harry’s head, “I think he feels guilty for lots of things, but there is likely more than that to his recent behaviour.”

Harry lets out a sigh and slumps back onto his pillow. Talking with Luna can sometimes be taxing unless you know to ask the right questions, which is the direct one usually.

“Do you know what is bothering him?”

“No, we’re not close enough for him to share that with me.”

“That’s helpful,” Harry says his tone full of the disappointment he feels. However, her answer has made him think of something he had never considered before. “How did you and Draco become friends, I remember it was a bit of a shock seeing you together in Hogsmeade.”

“Oh, I caught Draco trying to cast a Patronus, or that’s what I thought he was doing anyway. I offered to give him a few pointers and suggested that he ask you if he really wants to learn.”

Harry’s mouth drops open, of all the answers he expected that isn’t even close to anything he considered.

“When was this?”

“A few weeks ago, the beginning of the month. I think he was shocked that I didn’t laugh at him, because I know that doesn’t feel nice. He sort of closed up after that and didn’t answer me but I told him that I don’t blame him for my stay at his house.”

Harry shakes his head in bemusement, only Luna would refer to being held captive in someone's dungeons as staying at their house.

“What happened then?” he asks completely captivated by Luna’s story.

“He just sort of stared at me for ages and then he told me he was sorry anyway. Then I asked him about his Patronus, mentioning how good you were at teaching it but he shook his head and told me he couldn’t cast it.”

“Anyone can cast a Patronus if they focus,” Harry interrupts mildly annoyed.

“Which is what I told him and I encouraged him to keep trying anyway. I think he had gotten pretty close just before Halloween, but then he didn’t want to talk about it anymore and got really sad.”

Harry frowns, that would explain Draco's distance just before the party and why he decided not to go. He wishes he had known that because Harry would have happily helped Draco learn to cast it if he was struggling. Was there any way that it could be linked to why Draco is avoiding him now?

“You said that you thought Draco was trying to cast a Patronus, what do you mean by that?”

“Well when I bumped into him, there was a light before him that felt warm, and it reminded me of a Patronus but those are white not blue.”

Harry throws out his arms to grab Luna’s shoulders, forgetting that he is still recovering and promptly letting out a gasp of pain as his muscles protest his unexpected and fast movement. Once the pain has faded enough that he can suck in air he tightens his grip on Luna and repeats back the two words bouncing around his head.

“Blue light.”

“Yes, it was very pretty.”

“Where was this and why didn’t you tell me before now?” Harry asks as even more questions fill his head.

“In Myrtle's bathroom. I know boys shouldn’t be in there, but Myrtle told me she doesn’t mind since they’re friends and I didn’t tell you about it because you didn’t ask. Actually,” Luna says frowning a little, “I don’t think Draco would have liked me telling you, but it felt right for you to know.”

Smiling, Harry pulls her closer and kisses her cheek, “It is the perfect thing to tell me, but I really need to talk to Draco right now.”

Harry has so many questions that he needs answering, but he also just really wants to see Draco and thank him. It’s unlikely he knows just how much he helped Harry face Voldemort but Harry plans to change that along with telling him just how much be means to Harry personally.

“He’s probably in his dorm, but I know he visits Myrtle most nights from 9 to about 10,” Luna says as Harry releases her.

“At least that’s closer than the dungeons. Do you think he’ll be there tonight?”

“I expect so, I can ask Myrtle, but she doesn’t like me as much as Draco.”

“Please don’t tell her, I’ll just sneak out tonight and hopefully get lucky,” Harry begs Luna. She smiles broadly back at him and gives him a nod before letting out a little gasp.

“I almost forgot, to bring you good luck,” Luna says as she reaches into her pocket and pulls out a white egg which she places into Harry’s hand.

“Uh, ok, thank you,” Harry mumbles eyeing up the egg in confusion. The shell is pure white without any marks, and it feels warm in his hand from being kept in Luna’s pocket, but it is very clearly just an uncooked egg.

“My mother told me that white eggs are lucky and were once used in magical rituals to promote fertility and virility.”

Harry is positive his cheeks have turned red as he can feel his face burning as he questions why Luna thought he would need luck with either of those two things.

“They are also known to protect children from misfortune and ward off evil. I know you’re not really a child anymore, but it might still help,” Luna continues as she pulls forward a lock of hair and begins plating it. She hasn’t looked at Harry since giving him the egg, and he’s very grateful for that as he tries to control his blush. He knows how important Luna’s mother was to her and the thought behind the kind if somewhat weird gift makes him smile.

“Thank you Luna, really. I hope it does bring me good luck and keeps me safe.”

Luna finishes her braid and tucks it behind her eye with a nod, “Shame its autumn, if it had been summer I could have also brought you a ladybug to bring you luck in love too. I hope you’re talk with Draco goes well and tell him I said hello.”

Harry goes to speak, but she’s already jumped up and is heading away, humming under her breath something without a tune.

“Um, ok, bye Luna.”

He runs his thumb over the smooth shell of the egg he’s still holding and just sits unmoving for several minutes. Talking with Luna always leaves a person feeling a little lost and stupid. He probably should have considered before that Draco was the blue light, but he really thought he would have told Harry if that was the case.

A smile sneaks onto Harry’s face as he throws the egg a foot into the air and then carefully catches it. He has some mischief to cause and a sneaky Slytherin to question, and he forgets his classwork in favour of planning out exactly how he’s going to escape from his current prison.

The chance of coming face to face with his secret protector is doing more for his health than all the potions and magic in the world. As he turns the egg in his hand, he works out Madam Pomfrey's schedule and the path he’ll take up to the second floor while avoiding being caught by anyone without his invisibility cloak. He could wait and ask Ron and Hermione to bring it tomorrow, but he can barely wait a few hours let alone a whole day to see Draco after so long already.

***************************************

Harry stirs as he hears Madam Pomfrey doing her last rounds of the night and keeps his eyes closed as he hears the rings on his curtain scrape on the pole before being followed by the swish of them falling closed.

Still, he doesn’t dare move and continues to concentrate on keeping his breaths steady and even as he counts to 100 in his head. Finally sure that it’s safe he reaches for his glasses as he draws back the blanket. Putting on his glasses, he looks down at his fully clothed body to search for his trainers the only item he is missing. He slips them on as quietly as possible and strains his ears for any noise. A small part of him also wants to grab his coat to protect him from the chilly air, but the racing of his heart is keeping his blood flowing and heating him pretty well already.

Swallowing down his nerves, he gets to his feet, getting only a mild twinge of pain from his legs. His pain potion is still working for now but climbing the stairs is going to put his body to the test, and he’ll find out just how recovered he really is.

His eye dart around as Harry reaches the door and eases it open with only the softest scratch of wood on stone as he slips through the gap and pulls it closed behind him. The first part over Harry allows a grin to spread over his face and strides purposely forward to find the solution to the last piece of his Halloween puzzle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have finally finished writing this fic so the last chapter is ready for tomorrow.


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The prompt word for today is: Again

Harry makes it to the second floor a bit out of breath but undetected and checking the time he realises it’s already past ten. Worried that he might have missed Draco he moves as quickly as his aching muscles will let him to the door to Myrtle’s bathroom. He presses his ear to the door and smiles when he makes out the sound of two voices talking, Myrtle’s much higher tone more recognisable than Draco’s soft drawl but now he’s heard it Harry knows that it’s the same voice he heard from the blue orb. He swallows and takes a few deep breaths as he screws up all the courage he has before pushing the door open and striding quickly inside.

“Harry!”

Without a word in reply, Harry lifts his hands and cups Draco’s face and pulls him into a kiss. It lasts only for a moment, but it leaves Draco speechless and Harry can feel the heat that fills his cheeks against his palms.

“What?”

“Thank you,” Harry whispers as he smiles, dropping his hands and shoving them in his pockets as shyness buries his earlier bravo.

Draco looks away, his fringe falling forward and hiding his eyes from view, “So you know?”

The sadness in Draco’s tone gave Harry pause and worried that his recklessness has gotten him into trouble again he quickly sets out to make things right. He hates that Draco won’t look at him, that his mouth is pressed into a thin line and not curled in a smirk or pulled up in a smile.

“Sorry, I promised that if I ever found out who my protector was, I’d kiss them. I owe you my life, Draco. I owe you more than that. Do you have any idea what you did?”

“I didn’t stop him!” Draco shouts as he finally looks up and Harry can see the redness of his eyes. As he stares, the first tear falls leaving a shiny train down Draco’s cheek that Harry desperately wants to brush away. Curling his fists tighter in his pockets, Harry clenches his jaw as Draco wipes his tears away with the sleeve of his jumper.

“I’ve been searching for weeks for a way, but I couldn’t do anything in the end.”

That’s the last straw for Harry, and he reaches out and pulls Draco into his arms, holding him tightly as words pour from his mouth.

“You did more than you know and if you had listened to my friends or visited me, I could have told you sooner. I wouldn’t be here right now if not for you Draco. You kept me going, I would have given up without you. You gave me a reason to fight.”

Draco holds onto him just as tightly, his fingers digging into Harry’s skin the way they had as they had flown away from the fiendfyre. The moment that memory flits through Harry’s mind, his arms hold Draco just that little bit closer. It reassures him that Draco is here and that Harry can protect him the way Draco protected him.

“What is going on? If you’ve upset my friend I will make your life hell,” Myrtle threatens, and Harry is tempted to tell her he’s already in hell because Draco’s upset and he doesn’t know how to fix it.

“I’m fine,” Draco mutters, his voice muffled by Harry’s shirt but understandable, “Can you give us a bit of space please Myrtle?”

She nods and with a dark glare at Harry sinks away into the floor. Draco lets out a breath that caresses Harry’s neck with its warmth before he pulls back. There are red blotches on his face, and his eyes are ringed in circles from tiredness, but Harry still wants to kiss Draco again.

However even he isn’t that reckless and instead he takes Draco’s hand and tugs him over to a simple wooden bench where they can sit down together.

“Tell me everything,” Harry says as he keeps hold of Draco’s hand in his, warming the chill from his fingers.

“I don’t even know where to start.”

Harry doesn’t believe that as Draco turns away, nervously chewing on his lip. He thinks it’s more likely that Draco doesn’t want to talk to him and while that hurts, he also won’t push for answers.

“Well do you have any of those lollies on you?”

Draco’s head whips to face him and Harry sees the corner of his mouth twitch for a moment. He smiles back because it’s a start and Draco pulls his hand free to reach into his pocket and pull out two lollies. Handing one to Harry, he unwraps the other and pops it into his mouth as he gazes out at the stalls and sinks with a distant look.

“How did you work it out?” Draco’s voice breaks the silence after a minute and relaxing a little at its even tone, Harry replies.

“I didn’t. Luna accidentally let it slip when she visited me today. I asked her how you two became friends. The moment she mentioned a blue light I knew, but I can’t imagine it being anyone else now that I’ve had a chance to really think about it.”

Draco turns and raises an eyebrow at him, “I expected you to work it out sooner. Then again, I also thought you already knew who the shadow was.”

“How did you know?” Harry asks his voice hushed so that it doesn’t carry enough to echo. Draco looks away again, his hand moving to rest on his left forearm.

“It’s been itching for months, irritating me, especially at night which is why I started coming here for a little while. I thought it was just in my head, a physical outlet for my emotions until I saw your reaction in Divination.”

Harry frowns as he recalls what happened after the first time they spoke and the fear that had bombarded him at that moment. He thought Draco had already left and tells him so.

“I did, I stopped just past the stepladder because my arm was burning and I was scratching at it when you flew past me looking like you were being chased by rabid crups.”

Draco pauses to lick the lolly in his hand before continuing, “I only had to watch you for a few days to notice the correlation between your behaviour and my mark reacting. I used it to follow Voldemort thought I didn’t want to believe he was responsible. He was following you, so I did the same.”

“The first time you gave me a lolly, you weren’t there because you were heading to lunch, were you?” Harry asks, and Draco gives a small shake of his head.

“I was keeping an eye on him and you by extension while I tried to work out what he was. I panicked slightly when you jumped out at me and hoped the sweet would distract you, or even just stop you hexing me if you caught me again.”

“I wasn’t going to hex you,” Harry states with an eye roll.

“Maybe not but I bet that at one point you thought I was responsible for your, ‘ghost’, did you call it. Not that I blame you, in my lowest moments I wondered if I was responsible too.”

Harry is about to tell Draco that he didn’t consider it at all but snaps his mouth shut on the lie.

“I did, just for a moment and it almost killed me to do it. I didn’t want to believe it.”

Draco blinks as his confession, and slowly a shy smile appears on his face that ignites a fire in Harry’s chest and causes his heart to skip a beat.

“So what is that blue light?” Harry asks to steer the conversation into a different direction and give him more time to think of how to admit just how much he cares for Draco if it isn't already clear enough.

“A spell to dispel evil that I came across in the library archives. I didn’t even know if it would work the first time I cast it.”

“So it was your footsteps I heard that day. I’m glad it worked and that you were there, I was terrified,” Harry admits.

“I was researching when I felt it come closer; I ripped the spell out of the book and started forward until I spotted you. Hiding like a coward, I saw the shadows going for you and cast more out of hope than anything.”

“Why did you hide?”

“Fear, shame, embarrassment,” Draco lists as he waves his lolly in his hand, “I was afraid that seeing me you’d be convinced I was to blame. I was ashamed to admit why I could sense it, that my mistake still linked me to him in any way. Then there is the embarrassment of being caught trying to play at being a hero, the spell might have done nothing and shown just how useless I am.”

“You’re not useless,” Harry snaps his voice harsher than he intended as he retakes Draco’s hand while Draco looks at him wide-eyed. “Just, you’re not useless. Even if the spell had failed the fact you tired means something or it did to me.”

“Thanks but it could only do so much, and as he got stronger it worked less and less. I tired another spell I found, but I don’t think it worked.”

“When was that?” Draco’s cheeks turn pink, and he quickly sticks the lolly in his mouth sucking hard as he looks away.

“Draco?”

With a pop, Draco pulls the lolly out of his mouth and gives a small sigh, “Early one Saturday morning I caught you leaving this bathroom. I was worried Myrtle had told you something so I stayed back but decided to give the spell a go anyway. It was another old one I found, a spell of protection and peace. It didn’t give any details of how it worked, but I didn’t sense Voldemort for a little while afterwards.”

“I remember now, Hermione checked me for curses. That night was the first time in weeks I didn’t have nightmares, so it did something,” Harry tells Draco his eyes falling shut as he remembers the dream and the peace he woke up feeling.

“I had hoped it would do more, but I wasn’t sure, so I stayed close anyway, though watching you on a broom isn’t much of a chore.”

Harry’s eyes snap open to glance at Draco who is frowning down at the lolly as he twirls the stick between his fingers.

“Then it came back, I wondered if I could draw it away from you, but that didn’t work either. Luckily you can cast a Patronus since it was much more effective than anything I could do at the time.”

“Can you cast it now, Luna said you were close?” Harry asks, and Draco only nods in reply letting out a soft hum in agreement.

“That’s great.”

“But it was too late to help, by that point, your Patronus didn’t work. I managed to slip out after you in potions. Granger and Weasley had already run off, but I could pinpoint Voldemort and knew where to go. I saw your stag fall, and then it went for you and…” Draco trails off, his eyes darting to Harry from under his fringe which he brushes away only for it to fall back again.

“You saved my life. You stopped the sword too, didn’t you?”

“I knew you were following me and thought you had figured out I was connected. I used the trapdoor to reach the dungeons and hid in my dorm until I felt brave enough to face you. It was just luck that I was there when that sword fell, and afterwards, I realised how close it had gotten to you and that I had to find a way to stop it.”

“So those books weren’t for a career in healing but research to stop Voldemort?”

Harry’s a little hurt that Draco had lied to him and wishes he’d trusted him enough to tell him about the ghost, but then Harry never mentioned it to him either so they are both at fault.

“I do want to be a healer, but those books weren’t for my thesis. I saw the look on your face, knew what you were thinking but didn’t think you would believe me about the real reason, so I lied.” Malfoy lets out a small chuckle, “I’m embarrassed to admit that I told you about wanting to be a healer because I wanted you to think better of me.”

“I would have believed you no matter what you told me, I didn’t want to even consider the possibility that you were linked to my ghost because I already thought you better than that Draco.”

Harry squeezes Draco’s hand, running his thumb over the knuckles, “If only we’d talked about the ghost, we could have worked together to beat him.”

“I almost told you, after the quidditch game but you started talking at the same time, and I got all flustered,” Draco eyes drop to Harry’s mouth for a second before drifting away to look out at the bathroom again.

“You were still with me at the end. Though I don’t know how you managed to get the blue orb into my head?”

Draco smiles at his question, a dimple appearing to wink at Harry from his cheek, “You might be the hero of the wizarding world, but your occlumency skills stink Potter.”

Draco flashes a smirk at Harry before leaning back on the bench, “I was rushing to the party when I felt my mark start to burn, worse than ever before and my heart stopped. I thought I was too late, and I still didn’t know how to stop him, but I turned around and ran towards it anyway. I found you and froze. You were thrashing on the floor, eyes rolling up in your head and then you suddenly gasped and went still.” Draco stops as he frowns; eyes narrowed as he stares at a spot on the floor between them and swallows.

“I thought you were dead until I noticed your chest moving and realised you were still breathing. The closer I got to you, the more my mark hurt and not knowing what had happened, I tried ligilimency to check your recent memories. I didn’t expect to appear in a war zone and then be kicked out by someone else. It took a few attempts since I’m better at blocking people than getting into their heads. However eventually I found a way into a pocket of memories, ones that were being hidden. I tried using one of those to reach you, but he saw it and stopped me in a second, sealing it back away in your mind. I don’t know why the blue orb worked better, maybe because he didn’t know what it was and through that I broke the wall cutting you off from remembering the war and how it ended before he threw me out again. I stayed beside you for a while but then I heard people coming and ran. I can’t imagine anyone seeing me kneeling next to your unmoving body would think I was trying to help. I ended up coming here and told Myrtle what had happened before sending her to find the Headmistress.”

“I had given up when you showed up, everyone was dead, and all I could see were bodies everywhere I looked. I saw you die, felt you slip from my hand into the fire and all I could do was watch. I didn’t know why it hurt so much at the time, I couldn’t remember, but I still felt like I’d lost something important.” Harry whispers, his chest tightening as the vision plays in his head. “Knowing you were alive, that Ron and Hermione were waiting for me and that it was only happening inside my head pushed me to fight. I did what you said, and I got back up, and I fought with everything I had because losing wasn’t an option. When I needed a happy memory to push back the shadows I thought of you, whenever he seemed to be getting the upper hand I thought of you and when I won I thought of you. Then I woke up and you weren’t there. Is it pathetic if I admit that I kept waiting for you to visit, hoping you’d turn up?”

There is a burning sensation behind Harry’s eyes, and his throat hurts as he forces out the words in a casual tone. Draco turns to look at him, his face pale and eyes full of shame.

“I wasn’t sure you would wake up and then when you did I didn’t know what would happen next or if you would want to see me. I guess I got it into my head that you’d be angry with me for not telling you about Voldemort or admitting that I was casting the blue orb spell. I did visit a few times before you woke up, usually at night so there was less chance of being seen, but…it was scary. Seeing you that still and quiet.”

“You were there, the night after I woke up,” Harry starts to say as Draco’s shakes his head, but Harry continues, “You were. Hermione and Ron were told not to tell anyone I was awake until the next day. That night I was dreaming about the blue orb, and I could hear someone talking to me, telling me to wake up and I felt.”

Harry looks down at their joined hands as he pauses and smiles. “I thought I imagined it, that it was all a dream,” Harry says as warmth spreads through his chest and settles somewhere in the centre.

Draco doesn’t say anything, but he also doesn’t pull away as Harry leans closer and Draco’s eyelids lower to half cover his striking grey eyes. Harry shuts his own as their lips meet again and this time he lets them linger pressing against Draco’s and running his tongue along the seam of Draco’s lips Harry can taste the lolly he was eating just moments ago. Sticky and sweet Harry moans when Draco’s mouth opens, and his tongue coaxes Harry’s deeper.

Lifting his free hand, Harry cups Draco’s face as the kiss grows more passionate until he loses all sense of time and his lungs burn for air.

Draco breaks the kiss first, sucking down a gasp of air as he stares red-faced at Harry in wonder.

“That better not have been for saving your life because I’d rather you not be in mortal peril just to get a kiss,” Draco says with a smirk, but something in his expression shows that he’s nervous.

“That was because I really wanted to kiss you, have for a while. In fact, there’s a very good chance I’m in love with you so if you’d agree to be my boyfriend that would be great,” Harry replies, his tone a little teasing but full of honesty.

“You think you love me?”

Draco raises an eyebrow at Harry expectantly and rather than answer Harry draws his wand. He tightens his hand on Draco’s as he feels him tense and cast a Patronus. The dragon surges from the tip, its large form filling the bathroom with bright white light and as Harry watches it spreads out its wings and snorts out a cloud of white mist.

“More than think,” Harry states confidently and looks over at Draco whose smile is wide enough to split his face as he reaches out a hand, stroking it over the dragon’s snout.

With a small laugh, Draco draws out his own wand, his fingers gripping it tightly as he glances at Harry before he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Opening his eyes he whispers the incantation and Harry watches stunned as a white lion joins the dragon, shaking it messy mane it sits back on its hind legs and opens its jaw wide before licking at its lips.

“I think I love you too,” Draco admits.

They both begin chuckling as they sit together in a girl’s bathroom in the middle of the night lit by the light of their Patronus. Harry keeps hold of Draco’s hand as he draws him closer and overflowing with happiness, kisses him again and again and again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!!! So this is the end of the fic and as promised it has a happy ending. I hope you've enjoyed reading this and a big thank you to those that have read along and left comments, you guys are the best.


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